


The Lines We Cross

by katofthenorth



Category: World of Warcraft
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Blizz cant be trusted so I'll do it myself, F/F, Minor Angst, Not Canon Compliant, Some Fluff, Temporary Amnesia, honour? what honour
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-07
Updated: 2019-09-19
Packaged: 2020-04-12 03:19:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 16
Words: 42,067
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19123507
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/katofthenorth/pseuds/katofthenorth
Summary: Is it morally right and just to condemn a woman who has no memory of her crimes?After pinning Sylvanas and her Horde to Silvermoon, the Alliance and Separatist Horde forces move to capture her, but things do not go as they planned.





	1. Surrender

There were so many of them.

That was all Sylvanas Windrunner, Warchief of the Horde, could think as she lowered her spyglass. Her remaining forces were small. Pitiful when considering the vast armies she had once commanded. Were she and her Horde still facing the Alliance alone, she may not have felt the daunting impossibility that faced her. But the Horde was fractured.

Everything that she had worked so hard to hold together had crumbled when the combined Orc and Tauren forces had taken Orgrimmar. She and the few in the city that remained loyal to her had been forced to flee in order to minimalize casualties. But even that had been for naught.

Without the Taurin on her side, Sylvanas couldn't retreat to Thunderbluff, and the Echo Isles was too far out of reach. Silvermoon had been her only real option. A continent away, mage portals were their only escape. The scant few civilians had been the first to be tossed through the erratic portals as the stabilized ones were destroyed.

There was precious little Sylvanas could have done to defend against an enemy already inside of her stronghold.

She wondered how many of those mages were still alive? Surly Bloodhoof would have talked the angrier of the Separatist Horde down.

The Separatist Horde. Sylvanas sneered at the thought of them. When the Orcs and Tauren had broken ranks and ran to the Alliance, Highmountain and the Mag’gar went with them. After that, the Goblins had quietly snuck away, choosing to take their chances alone, and the Pandaren had taken much the same route, pulling from both factions back to their island.

Orgrimmar marked the forth city she had lost. It seemed that her legacy was steeped in failure. Failure to defend. Failure in the assault. Failure to lead. Not for the first time, Sylvanas wondered if Vol’jin had made a grave mistake in handing the mantle to her.

Her ears flicked back as she turned her attention back to the horizon where the enemy marched ever closer, and with them, the remains of her family. Hadn’t she failed them as well?

“Warchief?” The voice next to her sounded distant.

If she had fought harder, could she have saved her youngest sister so much pain?

“Warchief, we need your orders,” the voice again.

Could she have managed to find and save her eldest?

“Sylvanas!” That got her attention. She slowly turned to face Lor’themar. He had refused to allow her to lead the charge alone, so deep was his distrust of her and her tactics. “The Sindorei await your orders, and the Shal’dorei grow restless, as do the troll. What are your orders?”

Sylvanas cast him a glance, her ears flicking back before looking away. “It’s always here, isn’t it, Regent Lord?” She asked, her voice just loud enough to be heard above the army at her back, “me, at the gates of a city. Facing down an impossible army.” She tilted her head back to stare up at the sun, “it was very close to here, where I fell. Did you know that?”

“I did,” Lor’themar replied with a furrow of his brow, “I will admit, I thought it odd that you would choose this place to make our stand. But that matters little. They march towards us as we speak and we need your orders.”

“It was a day like this,” Sylvanas ignored him, “I lead so many to their deaths. And for what? What did I save, in the end?”

“You bought time to save as many as we could. And you will do more this time around, Warchief.”

Sylvanas made a humming noise and turned to face Lor’themar fully, “despite your hand in Bloodhoofs release, you are the only one I can now trust. As such, I need you to make me a promise. I need you to swear on your life, that you will protect my Forsaken. The Alliance will no doubt call for their extermination. I need you to stand before them and allow no harm to come to them. Do this for me, and I shall do as I once did. I will buy you time.”

Lor’themar’s eye widened in shock, “you cannot possibly mean too--”

“This is a battle that we cannot win,” Sylvanas stated, “even I can see that. All we can do now is fall back and evacuate the city. Civilians through the portal to Suramar, fighting forces to the Golden Fleet.” She untied the horn from her hip and pressed it into his hands, “as soon as I am out of sight, you are to begin the retreat, just as we were taught. I will buy you as much time as I can.”

Gripping the horn, Lor’themar stood straighter, “what makes you so sure that they won't chase after us?”

“They will, but they will not harm you. The Wrynn cub is a pacifist at heart, you and I both know this to be true. And those that follow him are not the type to seek the total destruction of their foe,” she explained. “They will settle for taking the head of the beast and freeing those that were strong-armed into fighting by her side. When they come for you, it will be a great day as you will have all been freed from me. You people safe from the threats I held over you.”

Lor’themars ears slowly lowered as he clued into what the Banshee was planning. “I promise, on my life. I will defend the Forsaken as if they were my own. No harm will come to them. But I must ask, what is it that you plan to do?”

A grin slowly spread across her face as she pulled Deathwhisper from her back, “I will do exactly what they expect of me,” a shadow fell over her face, even as her crimson eyes burned brighter, “I will play the monster.”

_________________________________________________________

The company in which Jaina found herself as she rode steadily towards Silvermoon, were not the sort she ever would have imagined. To one side of her, Alleria and Vereesa, the two elves both insisting on being a part of the spear that would punch through the gates. On the other, Anduin, Genn, Baine and the old orc, Saurfang and behind him, Thrall. Seeing him sent an old rage rushing through her veins and the mage had to struggle to force it down. There would be targets enough for her to vent soon enough.

Soon enough.

That was strange too. They had been riding since the early morning, their armies trailing behind them, and they hadn't spotted a Horde fighter in hours, not even a scout. They found no signs of camps or any other traces of their army. It did little to calm her nerves.

“It's a ranger tactic,” Alleria spoke up, pulling her mount up alongside Jaina, “a silent retreat.”

“A retreat?” Anduin asked in confusion, “why would she retreat? That seems rather, defensive.”

Vereesa snorted, “if you saw a host of this size marching towards you, would you not also draw your people back?”

“The Banshee does not care for her people,” Saurfang grunted, “we have all seen this time and time again. That honourless creature does not care for any life but her own.”

“Then we must assume a trap,” Alleria concluded.

Jaina’s grip on her steads reins tightened, “if we are riding into a trap, then you should fall back, Anduin. We can't risk anything happening to you. The Alliance almost lost you once to her traps, we can't risk it happening again.”

“A king should lead his people, Lord Admiral,” Genn growled out, “not cower behind his men.”

Any retort that Jaina may have had was cut off by Anduin raising a fist, “hold!” he called. His command was quickly taken up, rippling down through the ranks as the combined armies shuffled to a halt. “There, on the hill.”

At first, there was nothing, and then, a lone figure walked to the peak of the hill, bow in hand. Sylvanas Windrunner had come to face them. She stopped, just within range of the Alliances archers and merely stood there.

The tense moments that massed prooved to be too much for some of the more bloodthirsty of the combined champions and they broke ranks, charging towards the Banshee Queen, heedless of their leaders call for order.

Even from this distance, Jaina could make out the gleam of Sylvanas’ fangs as the risen elf smirked at the champions. Why would she begin in the face of such impossible odds? Unless— “No!”

Jaina had just enough time to throw up a shield around those closet to her as the first explosion rocked the hillside. The Blight soon followed, swallowing them all in a sickly green fog of death. All around her, she could hear the anguished screams of the dying. Worse still than that, was the scream released by Alleria.

“VEREESA!” The Void elf cried, throwing herself from her horse and against the shield, struggling in vain to break through, wisps of dark energy curling from her body.

Jaina paled. She hadn’t been looking to see whom she had saved. She didn’t know that her friend had been just out of range, having been forced aside by the charge of the champions, and now— She squeezed her eyes tightly to took a shuddering breath as she tried to block out the screaming.

“Calm yourself, Alleria,” Anduin called as he moved to her side to pull her away, though his voice was anything but calm. He turned quickly to Jaina, “Aunty,” all attempts at appearing to be the infallible High King were dropped, “can you get us out of here?”

Jaina shook her head, “no. If I were to try and tear my way through the magical barriers of Quel’Thalas within the confines of this shield, the overflow of mana would kill us all.”

“I could open a portal through the Void,” Alleria provides quietly, her ears drooping, “but the High King would not be able to come with us. He is too close to the Light.”

“We will not leave Anduin behind!” Genn snarled.

“Then it would seem,” Baine stood from where he had been crouched with Thrall, “that the only way out is through.” He turned to face Jaina, “and for that, we must look to Jaina. During the siege at Lordaeron, you were able to dispel the Blight. Could you do so again?”

Jainas brow furrowed in concentration, the arcane glow of her eyes growing brighter, “Yes. I should be able to do that. It’s going to get very cold, very quickly. Be ready.” With her hand not keeping the shield active, Jaina drew a frost rune in the air before herself and sent it into the ground, saturating it with mana.

The temperature dropped drastically as the rune grew out of the shield and into the Blight that flowed around them. Jaina cast her glowing gaze around and waited. Her brow furrowed when nothing happened and she poured more mana into the rune.

“What's the hold-up, Proudmoore?” Saurfang growled, crossing his arms to guard himself against the frigid air.

“That should have worked,” Jaina grit out, as she canceled the rune. The Blight had felt different, faded. Biting her lip, Jaina allowed a few tendrils of arcane power to flow out through the shield and into the Blight. When she closed her eyes she could see it. The matrices that made up a rather complex spell. No, several spells all woven together. Jaina chuckled softly as she opened her eyes, “oh, that is clever. That is very clever. The Warchief made very good use of her assets.”

“Did you figure a way out, Jaina?” Anduin asked.

“There is no Blight,” Jaina stated simply.

“Have you gone mad?” Genn snarled, “I can see it out there! I heard the dying screams!”

Ignoring him, Jaina turned her attention to Alleria, “it's all an illusion, Alleria. She’s fine.” Against the shouted protests, Jaina lowered the shield, bracing herself as the Blight rushed in, and closed her eyes. She fought against the panic that rose in her chest and took a deep breath to calm herself. When Jaina opened her eyes once more, the Blight was gone.

Sylvanas stood among the champions that had rushed to face her. Each of them was, shockingly, alive, if a little worse for wear. She held her bow out in front of herself and waited for the gathered leaders to gather their wits. She watched, her eyes burning brighter, as Alleria bundled Vereesa into her arms, looking her over thoroughly for any injuries before helping her stand to face Sylvanas.

Jaina looked between the elves before finally sliding from her horse and moving to the sisters side, “what is she doing?”

Vereesa, still trembling with fear, narrowed her eyes, “shes… surrendering. That is an old Quel’dorei duel submission. To hand your weapon to your opponent.”

Jaina looked back to Sylvanas, “but why would she be surrendering? And why the fake Blight?”

“It matters not,” Saurfang growled, hefting his ax, “the Banshee ends here!” With a roar, he charged forward, taking a wide swing which Sylvanas easily dodged.

Sylvanas made no move to go on the offensive. She dodged and weaved around the orcs ax, deflecting the odd blow with Deathwhisper. It was one of these blocks that cost her her bow. Saurfangs ax caught on the bone and with a hard yank, it was ripped from her hands. She wanted to scream, to shed her corporeal form and slaughter the leaders that stood by to watch this duel, but doing so would defeat the purpose of her gambit. She just had to keep them busy for a little longer. Just had to give Lor’themar as much time as she could. Just had too--

Saurfang grabbed hold of Sylvanas’ face and slammed her down into the ground with a sickening crack of bones shattering. When the Banshee made no move to get up, or even open her eyes, Saurfang raised her ax, “time to put an end to this. Once and for all.”

That was more than enough for Jaina to see. She swung her clawed gauntlet up, summoning a rush of ice to hold his arm in place, “that is enough, Saurfang!”

Thrall seemed to agree as he rushed forward to rip the ax from his hands, “where is the honor in this, Saurfang? Is that not what we were fighting for? The honor of the Horde?”

“If we end her now, Azeroth will know peace!” Saurfang argued, even as Thrall hurled the ax away.

Thrall bared his fangs as approached, “this is not the way. She will stand trial, just as Garrosh did. That is honor. That is justice.”

“Because that worked out for us then,” Genn stated, “besides, we don't even know if that monster is still alive.”

“Enough,” Anduin sighed, “we will take her back to Stormwind and summon the others after tracking down the rest of the Horde. If she awakens than we will hold a trial, but until then, no more harm is to come to her.”

“I will take her,” Alleria offered, “the rest of you can head to Silvermoon.”

“Not Stormwind,” Jaina interjected. “It is too hostile a city. Take her to Dalaran. The Kirin Tor is still neutral and the Violet Hold is one of the most secure places in Azeroth.” After Anduin agreed to her suggestion, Jaina watched as Alleria carried the deposed Warchief through a Void portal and away to Dalaran. Jaina should have been happy. The greatest threat to the world had been dealt with and peace was finally at hand. It was what she had struggled for her whole life.

And yet, Jaina couldn't help the seed of worry that had taken root. This wasn't over. Far from it.

 


	2. Judgement

She had died, Sylvanas was sure of it. Though, she couldn't remember the killing blow, there was no chance that any of the righteous Alliance would have vouched for her life. She couldn't even count on her own sisters to call her to be spared. All she could do was squeeze her eyes shut and suffer through the torment of her afterlife while she awaited the last of her Val’kyr. And what would that really accomplish for her? She would be dragged back into her unlife to face, at best a mock trial, and at worse sent immediately back to the grave with no chance of returning.

“Sylvanas,” a voice called to her. Not the voice of one her her Val’kyr, she shut her eyes tighter. The voice sighed, “you be a lot of tings, Sylvanas, but I aint nevah tought one of dem to be lazy.”

“I know this voice. Are you what will torment me this time,” Sylvanas opened her eyes then, “Warchief?”

“No, no. I think you do a good job of that yourself,” Vol’jin chuckled, “and I ain’t been Warchief for quite some time. Just Vol’jin will do.”

At that, Sylvanas sat up and took in her surroundings. A field of tulips as she could see. A dry chuckle, “tulips. I didn't think this place could get any worse.”

“You think you died today?” Vol’jin asked, “sorry to be disappointing you, you just be unconscious.”

“Then what are you doing here?” Sylvanas stood, purposely crushing the flowers beneath her feet. 

Vol’jin reclined slightly, “I been doin a lot of wanderin while the world been fightin. Tryin to find my place in a world I dont be belongin to. Seems only right when the state of tings be partially me own fault.”

“So is that what this is?” Sylvanas sneered, “youve invaded my mind to shame me for what I’ve done in the position you forced me into?” She bared her fangs, her ears pinning back, “how do I know that you are really here? That you aren't some specter from my memories?”

“You dont be knowin dat,” Vol’jin shrugged, “maybe, in dis time of fear, your mind be callin up a friendly face to keep you company. It don't really matter what you believe, I be here to do the role I have made for meself. I be here to judge you, Sylvanas. To see if you can do what Azeroth needs you to do.” He waited as Sylvanas settled beside him to turn his full attention to her, “I see dat even in your mind, you see yourself as da Banshee Queen.”

“It's who I am now. In this cursed life, that is all I have been given the opportunity to be,” Sylvanas explained.

“And yet, da first place you tink of upon waking here,” the troll gestured to the endless field of flowers, “is Quel’thalas in it's glory. It is quite the honor to be able to see it meself.”

“It is the site of my greatest failure, my mind often returns here,” Sylvanas sat up straighter looking at Vol’jin sharply, “why did I tell you that?”

Vol'jin's only response was to laugh, “dis be YOUR mind, Sylvanas. Your thoughts an feelins. Dere be no lyin to me here,” he grinned, “it's what makes judgin you here easy. And you won’t be wakin up till I let you out, so you might as well let it happen.”

Sylvanas grit her teeth, “very well, ask your questions.”

“Why did you burn down da tree?” He asked. When Sylvanas stiffened he tilted his head, “I be takin it dat no one bothered to ask why ya did it?”

Sylvanas scoffed, drawing her knees up to her chest, “like any of them would have believed anything other than I did it because I could. Because that is just what I am. But no, burning the tree was not my intention. It was a necessary action to try and keep the Horde safe. Everything I did, I did for the Horde and my Forsaken.” She fell silent and stared off into the distance. “Why did you name me Warchief?” She asked, so quietly that there was hardly any echo to her voice, “I was the worst possible choice next to Gallywix.”

“Aye, dat be the question all want to be knowin the answer too,” Vol’jin hummed, “but even now, I not be knowing the answer to dat. Oh I been searching long and hard, but the whisperin one be doing a fine job of hiding from me. But, even now, I don’t tink I made the wrong choice. Do you?”

“Did you not here what I said about being as bad a choice as the goblin?” Sylvanas asked snidely, “yes I think you made the wrong choice. I have never sought out to be a leader to anyone. I did what was demanded of me. I never wanted to be Warchief, or queen of the Forsaken,” she let out a long shuddering breath, “I didn’t even want to be Ranger-general. I did because it was asked of me the only way I could.”

“Sometimes, it be da ones who do not wish to be leaders, that make the greatest,” Vol’jin offered.

Sylvanas threw her head back and laughed loudly, “than I must be the exception to that rule. I have done nothing but fail everyone I have lead.”

“Is that what you truly believe?” he asked.

“How could I not?” anger flared up in her, “I was in charge of defending Quel’thalas, and it was ravaged. I was elevated to leader of the Forsaken and I lost my city twice and then I allowed the Horde to fracture. So, I suppose I did do what you asked of me. The Horde just fell a few days later.” She pushed herself to her feet and stalked through the fields, going out of her way to crush as many of the flowers as she could. “I thought you were supposed to be judging me?” Sylvanas called over her shoulder, “not dredging up the failing of my past.”

Vol’jin stood slowly, wiping off his legs and smiling around his tusks, “ah, but I am judging you.” He followed her destructive trail to stand by her side. He placed a hand on her shoulder, noting how her ears flicked back, “you're not a bad person, Sylvanas. You make cruel heavy handed choices. You are a product of our world. What your are now is not what you could have been. And not what Azeroth needs.”

Clenching her fists, Sylvanas shrugged away his hand and turned to voice Vol’jin, “so that's it then? You will release me to my death now?”

“So quick you be to jump to conclusions,” Vol’jin shook his head. The field began to shimmer and in the distance the world began to fall away, “someting be comin, Sylvanas. Someting far worse den we ever had to face before. Azeroth will still be needing you. Just not as you are now.”

Sylvanas spun around as darkness began to encroach upon them, “Vol’jin? What are you doing?”

“Dey dont be needing you as you are now,” Vol'jin's hand began to glow slightly, “dey not be needin a queen. Dey be needin a general.” He pressed his hand to her forehead and the glow faded, “I’ll be keepin an eye on you.” With that, he shoved her roughly into the darkness.

“Wait, Vol’jin!” Sylvanas cried as she fell, “Vol’jin!”

 


	3. Jury

The first sense that returned to Sylvanas was touch, and with it, burning pain around her wrists. She tried to get away from what was hurting her, but only managed to pull herself high into the air. She allowed herself to hang again and her ears twitched at the jangling sound of chains as her hearing returned.

So she was imprisoned. But where? Sylvanas blinked her eyes furiously, trying to will her sight back. Slowly, her vision began to clear. The glowing barrier that acted as the door of her cell came into view and she squinted as she examined them. Purple veins of arcane energy flowed around the cell. Faint as the feeling was, Sylvanas could still feel the arcane energy in the air around her. It was so strong that Sylvanas concluded that she could only be in one of two places. Silvermoon or Dalaran. Silvermoon had no need for such drastic holding cells, so it had to be Dalaran.

That couldn't be right. Why would she be in Dalaran? She couldn’t be in Dalaran! Her people needed her!

Movement just beyond the barrier drew her attention to a lone guard. A human dressed in large gilded armor, holding a hammer at rest. A Paladin then. Strange. Sylvanas didn't remember Dalaran imploying paladins to guard the hold. “Guard,” she croaked, flinching at the odd cadence of her own voice. “Guard!” she tried again, stronger now.

The guard stumbled forward as if he had been shoved and spun around, his face a mask of fear. He gaped at Sylvanas as he staggered back towards the door before bolting out. “Lord Turalyon! It's awake!”

Sylvanas’ brow furrowed in confusion. “Turalyon? No, it must be a different paladin.”

_________________________________________________________

Jaina leaned back in her chair and cast her gaze around at the assembled leaders. Over the course of a week, more and more leaders had taken to attending the daily meeting to add their own voice to the pointless shouting. In her youth, Jaina would have been overjoyed at the sight. Alliance and Horde leaders coming together to talk mostly peacfully about a common issue.

That issue being one Sylvanas Windrunner. The deposed Warchief had yet to awaken. Even the few members of the Forsaken high command they had managed to capture had found this odd.

Tucked away in the same corner as they had been since these meeting had started, Alleria and Vereesa stood leaning against one another. They had yet to speak and Jaina couldn't help but wonder what they were thinking, given how often the arguments turned to the execution of their fallen sister.

The door at the end of their meeting room opened and two Zandalari trolls entered. As they took their seats, Saurfang grunted his disapproval, “how nice of the Zandalari delegation to finally join us. Where is your Queen then?”

The taller of the two trolls folded her hands on the table, “Queen Talanji did not tink it wise to attend a meeting of peace wit da Alliance witch--”

“Behave, Rakera,” the other troll hissed, jabbing her companion with her elbow.

Rakera grumbled quietly before continuing, “da mage what killed her fadder. Des are meant to be peaceful talks, are dey not? I be tinkin she made the right choice,” Rakera leveled her glare upon Jaina, “as a member of her council, I speak with da voice of da Queen. My word is hers.”

“I thank you, for joining us,” Anduin cut in before any heated words could be thrown. “I believe we can carry on with this morning meeting.”

“To what end?” Tyrande asked tiredly, “we have all already agreed that nothing can be done about the Banshee until she awakens. I suggest a shift of focus. Something we can solve now.”

“Like the rest of the Forsaken,” Genn snarled, sitting up straighter, “a topic I believe we can all agree on. Those creatures are a plague in and of themselves! They should all be eradicated.”

At his declaration, the room erupted into shouting.

“For once we are in agreement, Greymane,” Saurfang nodded, “they have proven to be dangerous even without the Banshee.”

“Any threat to the Forsaken will be met with the full force of the Sindorei army,” Lor’themar declared as he stood.

Thalyssra stood up next to him, “and the Shaldorei shall stand with them. Any move against my allies will work to only plunge Azeroth into war once more.”

While the other leaders fought back and forth, with Anduin and Thrall trying and failing to bring them to order, Jaina sunk lower in her seat. She hung her head, burying her face in her hands as she tried to fend off the throbbing headache that was blooming behind her eyes. Derek's face swam in her mind's eye. Her brother was one of the creatures that they were now fighting over. No. Creature was not the proper word, the Lord Admiral knew that now. He was a person as sure as she was. As Saurfang and Rokhan were.

‘I’m still your brother, Jaina. For as long as stars do shine.’

“Enough!” Jaina shouted as she stood, her chair clattering to the floor behind her. Frost spread across the table from where she had slammed her hands down and her eyes glowed faintly from the burst of magic. She took several deep breaths before she spoke again, “no harm is to come to the Forsaken.”

The first to come out of their shock at her outburst was Gallywix. He climbed up onto his chair and drummed his pudgy fingers against the table, “all right. No harm. That works fine for me. Those walking corpses arm far more useful alive than burned. I am nothing if not a practical man and all I see here is a great opportunity.” He waited for someone to interrupt him but when no one did he carried on. “Think about it. They don't need to eat or sleep. They never tire and they are scary strong! Think of all the free labor we could get outta them!”

“Your solution is to condemn an entire people to slavery?” Thrall asked in disgust.

Gallywix shrugged, “you say slavery, I say community service. The Forsaken have royally screwed over most of us in one way or another. Let their punishment be labor. Without the Banshee to stand up for them, we can work them till they fall apart. Everyone gets what they waAAAAAH!” He dropped down into his seat faster than even he thought he could to dodge the lance of ice that was hurled towards his head.

“I don't think I made myself clear,” Jaina ground out, “NO harm is to come to the Forsaken.”

“What do propose we do with them then, Jaina?” Baine asked calmly. “There are very few places that would be truly accepting of them, and if you wish them to not be harmed than we must think carefully.”

With almost no second thought Jaina offered, “Theramore.” A heavy silence fell over the room. Even the new members could feel that this wasn’t something to be offered up lightly.

“Jaina, are you certain that this is something that you wish to offer?” Anduin asked softly.

“Abandoned as it is, the Isle of Theramore is still my land and I may do with it as I wish,” she grit out in reply. Jaina pulled in a long breath to calm herself before carrying on, “the Kirin Tor has been monitoring the residual mana and it’s the lowest it’s been in years. Almost livable for humans. For the Forsaken it should be perfectly safe for them to be there long term. The overflow of mana may even be good for them.”

“You would allow the Horde into your shores willingly? After what they did?” Genn snarled.

“Do not think to lecture me on what the Horde did to my home, King Greymane,” Jaina shot back, “I was there. I still bear the scars of that day.” She ran her gauntleted fingers through her hair before turning to Lor’themar, “but I can see that we have been given an opportunity here. An opportunity to let the past die. And so, with your permission, Lord Theron, I would grant asylum to the Forsaken.”

Lor’themar crossed his arms and tapped his fingers against his armor, “I gave my word that I would protect them, Lady Proudmoore, with my life if need be. If I were to allow you to house them, I would ask the same of you.”

“You have my word,” Jaina bowed her head deeply.

Appeased, Lor’themar motioned towards the troll behind Rakera, “Kaja here will escort you to their hiding place.”

Kaja gave Rakera’s shoulder a firm squeeze before heading towards the door to leave with Jaina, “I do suggest ya keep ya wits about ya, Lady Mage. Der be many beasts in Nazmir be quick to take a bite out of you.”

“Nazmir,” Jaina shook her head as they walked out the door, “he had to hide them in the swamp.”

Even with a hallway between them, the assembled leaders could feel the arcane pull of the portal that Jaina opened when she could. Anduin wasn't sure what to say. He almost didn't want to break the silence that had fallen, but needs must. He was about to stand when two Paladins burst into the room. “Oh for Light's sake,” Anduin sighed.

“King Wrynn! The Banshee has awoken!” Turalyon declared loudly.

The sound of chairs sliding against polished marble of near deafening. Anduin had to act quickly to reign in order. “Order!” he shouted. It was rare for the boy king to raise his voice more than he had to and it had the desired effect. As the leaders turned to look at him, Anduin tried not to shrink away from their heated gazes. “I would speak to her first, as the High King,” Anduin said as he looked at Baine, “if the Warchief finds this agreeable.”

Baines' ears flicked irritably and he sighed, “I find this to be agreeable. I shall keep the peace here. Best we don't gang up on her.”

Anduin followed Turalyon and the other Paladin deep into the hold. As they neared separated cell where they had strung up Sylvanas with chains and shackles infused with the Light, Anduin stopped his escort, “I think it's best if I speak to her alone.”

Turalyon gripped the hilt of his sword tighter, “with all due respect, High King, but I do not think that wise. The creature in there is an abomination. There is no telling what it might try.”

“While I appreciate your concerns, general, we have her bound in as many chains as we could bless. I highly doubt that she can cause a threat to anyone,” Anduin said with a slight grin. “Just wait at the end of the hall. I’ll be fine.” Once he was sure that the two wouldn't follow him, Anduin approached the cell.

It was a strange sense of deja vu. Him alone against a bound and disgraced Warchief. Last time, this had not ended well. It wouldn’t happen again. Anduin would be sure of it. He stood straighter and lifted his chin, “Sylvanas Windrunner?” To his credit, Anduin managed to suppress the urge to shudder when those crimson eyes fell on him.

Sylvanas seemed to stare through him. She struggled against her chains for a moment before settling, her ears pinned back, “who are you?”

Anduin frowned in confusion. A ruse? He would play along, “I am King Wrynn, of Stormwind. High King of the Alliance.”

“King Wrynn?” Sylvanas repeated. Her eyes seemed distant as she thought, “I have known two Wrynns, and you are neither of them.”

“Two?” Anduin crossed his arms, “you must be referring to my father, Varian, and my grandfather.”

“Varian. Yes I know that name,” Sylvanas nodded, “I was unaware that human children grew sure quickly. He is but a child himself.” She struggled against her chains again, “for what reason have you imprisoned me in Dalaran? I must return at once to Quel’thalas!”

“Return? We just removed you from Quel’thalas,” Anduin explained.

“You did what!?” Sylvanas thrashed, trying to pull at least one of her hands free of her shackles. The chains glowed brighter and wisps of smoke rose from her wrists. “You would drag me from the front lines as that mad man marches against my people!? You would doom them all!?”

“Mad man?” Anduin shook his head, “we saw no mad man. We captured you and brought you here to answer for your crimes.”

“My crimes? MY crimes!? My only crime is doing everything possible to defend my people. The fallen prince in the one you're after! Arthas Menethil!” Sylvanas spat, baring her fangs, “without me there to coordinate our defense, thousands of innocents will die! Do you understand!? You must release me!”

The realization dawned on the young king slowly. As he put the pieces together, his face fell. He took a few steps closer to the barrier and finally met her eyes, “you don't remember, do you?”

“Remember what?”

“The war is over,” Anduin said quietly, “Quel’thalas fell.”

 


	4. Interegation

Anduin wasn't sure how he had expected the Banshee to react. Rage, perhaps was what he could have best have anticipated. Screaming and shouting. Or even laughter at him having fallen for her rouse. It had to be a rouse. How convenient was it that the Warchief would lose her memory when they had finally managed to bring her in? When they were prepared to question her? To finally get the answers the world deserved?

What he didn't expect was for her to slump in her chains. She hung her head, squeezing her glowing eyes shut tightly as her ears drooped. “I failed. I failed all of them I--” she tried to draw in a breath but her chest contracted painfully. Her body shook with sobs that she was unable to voice.

The young king watched the display with open confusion. Everything he saw was in complete opposition of what he knew of Sylvanas Windrunner. Or at least, what he knew of the Banshee Queen. The thought that she was telling the truth grew stronger. That he was not confronting the Banshee Queen at all, but the Ranger-General that she had once been. “Lady Windrunner,” Anduin repressed a small shudder as he addressed her. How strange it was to address a woman how had aided in and ordered the slaughter of hundreds, “tell me, what is the last thing that you remember?”

Sylvanas looked up slowly. A cloud seemed to pass over her as she thought. “We were retreating. Heading back towards Silvermoon, trying to buy as much time as we could,” her ears twitched slightly. “Fairbreeze. We stopped in Fairbreeze. We had a good long distance between ourselves and his army, but we knew that we couldn't escape. I tried to get as much rest as I could and then… I was here.” She looked into Anduin's eyes, burning red into soft blue, “what happened, King Wrynn? Am I to be tried, for my failure? What is Stormwind and the Alliance doing meddling in the affairs of a kingdom they abandoned to fend for themselves?”

There was the anger Anduin had been expecting. Though not the anger of a vengeful spirit, but that of a woman feeling cornered. “You are not here to answer for what happened to your homeland. You are here to answer for numerous war crimes spanning the past twenty odd years.”

That same anger flared again before Sylvanas latched on to the time, “twenty odd years?” She seemed to deflate again, “what did I do?” When Anduin didn't respond, she began to thrash against her chains, “what did I do, King Wrynn!?”

Anduin took a step back, “I’ll have the jailers loosen your chains so that you can find some comfort.” He turned and quickly retreated while Sylvanas shouted his name, repeatedly demanding an answer. “Guard the cell,” Anduin ordered as he passed, “no one is to speak with her without mine, or the Warchiefs approval.

“Well?” Thrall asked when Anduin reentered the room, “what did she say?”

Anduin shook his head as he gripped the back of his chair, “she claims to have no memory of her actions. Of anything after the Second War.”

“How very convenient,” Genn snarled, digging his claws into the table, “the moment we have her cornered she claims to have no memory of her crimes!”

The sound of wood cracking drew everyone's attention to where Tyrande sat. “She slaughters my people, burns my home, defiles my land!” She bared her fangs viciously as she stood, the glow of her eyes steadily fading, “and then claims to know NOTHING of it!?”

“Restrain the Night Warrior!” Velan called.

It took both of the Tauren leaders to force the elf back into her seat, and even then she struggled. Only when her eyes began to lighten again did they step back. Tyrande slumped back in her seat and turned her gaze to Anduin. “Do you believe her, Anduin?”

Anduin couldn't meet her gaze. The once peaceful Priestess’ volatile rage was just another casualty of Sylvanas’ crimes. So much had been ruined because of her. “You didn't see her down there.”

“Answer the Priestess’ question,” Thalyssra prodded, glancing towards Tyrande.

“Yes. I believe her,” Anduin sighed, finally taking his seat. “I understand if you all believe differently,” his eyes found Vereesa and Alleria where they still stood, “I suggest an inquisition. Individually question to try and catch her in this possible lie.” He looked around the room, waiting for any objections. When none came, he carried on, “we shall make a list of the charges, all of them, and the wronged parties may question her. Agreed?”

“Agreed.”

“Teldrassil,” Tyrande started, “and the whole attack against my people.”

“Her assault on Gilneas, and the murder of my son,” Genn continued.

“Wrathgate,” Saurfang looked around the room, “not one of you can truly say that you believe she had no part in it.”

“Use of the Blight,” Baine offered, even as he hung his head.

Anduin nodded and motioned for the doors to be opened, “one at a time. We are not accusing her, we are trying to catch her in a lie. Genn? Maybe not as a worgen?”

Genn huffed as he stalked towards the door, slowly retaking his human form.

_________________________________________________________________

Sylvanas looked up slowly from where she now sat with her knees drawn up to her chest. Another human was storming towards her. Older and with cold fury in his eyes. Her ears flicked back as she stood, “did King Wrynn send you?”

“You think yourself so clever, don't you?” Genn snapped. He began pacing in front of the cell, “Anduin may be young and willing to believe you. I know what you are, I’ve seen it.”

Sylvanas blinked and took a few steps closer, “are you here to speak against me then? To tell me what I have done?”

“Do not take me as a fool, I am not convinced. You destroyed my kingdom! Scattered and killed my people after plaguing our land!”

“I…” Sylvanas looked away.

“Look me in the eye, Banshee!” Genn snapped.

Sylvanas’ head snapped up, her eyes narrowing in confusion, “what did you call me?”

“Don’t toy with me. I know what you are, and you know why I am here,” he approached the barrier with deliberate slowly, “so confess so that we might be done with this farce!”

“Confess to what? I don't even know who you are,” Sylvanas reached the end of her chains as she got closer. She searched his face, trying to recognize him.

“You murdered my son!” Genn lunged at the barrier as he shifted to his Worgen form. The arcane barrier between them hissed as he slammed a massive fist against the shield, “he was going to be the future and you killed him! You arrow flew right through his heart!”

Sylvanas stumbled back, even as too old Worgan was dragged away from her cell. A son? What could have possibly possessed her to kill someone’s son? Was it part of a battle? An assault? And destroy a kingdom? Never. She would never. Would she?

_________________________________________________________________

She didn't have to wait long before an orc began walking slowly towards her cell. With a savagery that surprised even her, Sylvanas lunged towards the barrier. The Light blessed chains burned into her wrists as she tugged at her chains. “Get out!” she snarled, “I care not for what crimes you are here to accuse me of! I will never beg the forgiveness of an orc!”

Saurfang grunted as he folded his arms, “I do not want your apologies, Sylvanas. I do not care for your excuses or this cowardly act of yours.” The closer he moved to the barrier, the brighter the chains burned, “after all the lives you have ruined, all I want is your confession for your part in the Blighting of Wrathgate.”

Sylvanas spat as best she could at the barrier, “if there were more orcs like you at this Wrathgate than I am sure that I would do it again!”

“My son died because of the horror you ordered unleashed!” Saurfang growled, “I had to bury my only child!”

She stopped struggling and merely leaned forward, letting the chains sear into her wrists, “one less orc in the world is nothing that I would ever lose sleep over. Not after what your people did to mine.”

Saurfang snarled around his tusks as he searched her face. He stared deep into her blazing gaze and saw nothing but contempt. “I’ve seen what I need to see. I don't think it will take much to convince the others of your lies.”

_________________________________________________________________

Sylvanas didn’t bother getting up for her next interrogator. When she glanced to see who was walking towards her, she had to do a double take. The man was huge with the face of one of those bulls she had once seen in Lordaeron. From the look of him, he could easily crush her with hardly a thought. She backed further into her cell and bared her fangs while her ears pinned back, “what in Belores name are you?”

The bull-man blinked as he looked down at her. He said nothing for a long while before sighing and settling down on the floor in front of her cell. “Well,” he rumbled, “that settles that, I suppose. I’ve known you long enough to know that you wouldn’t pretend to show weakness even if it was beneficial to your cause.” He hummed in thought, shifting his weight to make himself more comfortable, “my name is Baine, I am a Tauren. One of the peoples of Kalimdor.”

“A Tauren?” Sylvanas questioned, “What crimes did I commit against someone from across the sea?”

Baine hummed, “you crossed that very sea yourself many times over. As for what you did to me? Nothing personally that I wouldn’t have done were our positions reversed. I disobeyed your orders, and you had me imprisoned.”

Sylvanas tilted her head, “I was in a position to be giving orders to you?”

“Before you were captured and I took over, you were Warchief,” Baine explained, watching her steadily, “of the Horde.”

Her ears pinned back and her jaw went slack, “I… lead the Horde? I would never! After everything they did!”

“Perhaps here, as you are now, no,” Baine shook his head, “but as I know you, you reached out to join us. I know that may be a shock to hear but--”

“I betrayed my people,” Sylvanas breathed, “I failed them and then betrayed them.”

“You brought them to the Horde with you,” the Tauren explained calmly, “you saved them. If it weren't for you, they would all be dead.” Baine stood slowly, and offered Sylvanas a kind look, “this has been enlightening. I will make sure to tell the others what I have heard here.”

_________________________________________________________________

“On your feet Windrunner,” Tyrande's voice boomed as she approached the cell flanked by heavily armed guards. She stopped in the middle of the room and waited for Sylvanas to stand. “You know who I am?”

“Tyrande Whisperwind,” Sylvanas jutted her chin out defiantly, “every Highborne knows who you are. If you plan to interrogate me, you should really start with the hard-hitting questions.”

“Very well. Hard facts,” Tyrande took a step closer, “you ordered an unprovoked attack against my people. You ordered the execution of my husband, an order that was thankfully ignored. You stood and ordered the burning of my home! Teldrassil was full of innocent lives and you watched them burn!” Her eyes darkened as she spoke and she approached the cell dragging her clawed nails down the arcane barrier, “you are very lucky for this barrier between us. I am not as calm minded as I once was, nor am I as naive as some of the younger races.” Tyrande met the risen elfs burning gaze, “regardless of whether or not you are telling the truth, that you have no memory of the genocide you committed against my people, I would destroy you here and now.”

She watched the look of fear that briefly crossed across Sylvanas’ face before she took a step back, “Don't get too comfortable. The Kaldorei will be avenged.”

_________________________________________________________________

“I’m died, didn't I, Captain Theron?” Sylvanas asked quietly from the corner of her cell.

Lor’themar looked over at her and frowned, “What would give you that idea?”

Sylvanas laughed, her ears pinned back at the sound, “you insult me, Theron. While I have no windows with which to see the sun and tell the passing of time, I know that I have been awake and locked down here for at least two days. No one has brought me food, nor drink and I’m had no need for sleep,” she looked over, one of her ears flicking back, “the only conclusion I can come to is that I no longer have need of such things.”

Lor’themar looked uncomfortable as he nodded, “yes, you died at the gates of the city.”

She swallowed hard and looked down at her hands, “and what did he do to me? I am not how I remember, and yet I do not resemble the Scourge.”

“No one except for you know the answer to that, I’m afraid,” Lor’themar sighed.

“And what great crimes have I committed against you and ours?” Sylvanas closed her eyes tightly.

“When you were yourself? In control of everything you did? Nothing,” he explained, “you are innocent of any wrongdoing.”

She nodded, “then why are you here?”

Lor’themar offered her a small smile, “I thought you might like a friendly face to keep you company.”

Sylvanas blinked quickly to clear away the image that flashed through her mind. “From what I have heard, I don't really deserve that luxury, do I?” She didn't wait for an answer, “tell me what happened? After I died. I need to know.”

“It is a very long story,” he scratched at his beard. “When your unit fell, there was nothing stopping his armies. They ransacked the city, though, thankfully, you had bought us enough time to evacuate most of it. But there was nothing we could possibly do to stop the destruction of the Sunwell.”

Sylvanas stared down at her lap and tugged absently on a loose string from the rough pants she wore, “what of Vereesa? What of my little sister?”

“She lives, though we are not on good terms.”

Sylvanas was on her feet in moments, “she survived!? Where is she? Please! Please Lor’themar, I must see her!”

“I… will see what I can do,” he nearly ran from the cell and up to where the council had convened.

“Well? Has she remembered anything?” Thrall asked.

Lor’themar shook his head, “no. She has requested to see her sister,” his eyes locked onto Vereesa.

“The last time we saw her,” Alleria stepped forward to shield her little sister from view, “that creature tried to kill us both I will not put her in that position again.”

“It may actually be a good idea,” Vereesa argued. “When last I saw the Banshee, she was hostile at best. But… my sister cared deeply for me and I do not believe that is an emotion she could fake. I will speak to her. Alleria, let us go and have a little talk. Stay hidden.”

_________________________________________________________________

As the sisters approached the cell, Alleria melted into the Voids embrace, leaving Vereesa on her own. It was strange to say the least, seeing the Banshee try to leap towards her, not out of hate, but out of pure joy, “Vereesa! You’re alive! Thank all the stars you're alive!”

A tingle of fear ran through Vereesa but she didn't let it show, “yes, I am alive, despite several attempts on my life by your hand.”

Sylvanas froze, “I what?”

“On at least three occasions now, you have threatened my life,” Vereesa explained.

“No. No, I would never!” Sylvanas’ knees shook and she fell to the ground. Hearing of her supposed war crimes had been manageable, but this? That she would threaten her only family. “No, no no no.”

“But you did, and not only mine.” The air behind Vereesa shimmered as Alleria stepped out.

“You would torment me with illusions now?” Sylvanas asked, her voice caught in her throat, “you would blame me for not being able to stop her?”

Alleria narrowed her eyes slightly, “I am no illusion, Sylvanas.”

“Alleria,” Sylvanas’ voice came as a mere whisper, “you're here. You're really here?”

“As part of your final judgment. Yes.” Alleria watched Sylvanas closely as she tried to come to grips with what she was seeing. “Judgement that I cannot pass. If even the Whispers do not speak of treachery, then there is none to be found.”

At the words of her eldest sister, Vereesa through herself to her knees before the barrier, “so it really is you in there.”

“Yes,” Sylvanas gasped, “yes I'm here. And you're here and Alleria is alive!” She looked past her little sister to Alleria, “what does this mean for me?”

Alleria frowned, joining Vereesa on the ground, “I don't know, Sylvanas. I don't know.”

 


	5. Sentence

Getting the Forsaken to agree to go to Theramore had been harder than Jaina had thought it would be. And she had thought it was going to be very hard. She didn't blame them for being wary of her. Nor did she blame them for the contingent of Blood Knights that had met her at the entrance to their hideaway.

She raised her hands slowly in answer to the row of swords pointed at her. “I come unarmed on behave of the High King and the Warchief. I have come to offer a safe haven to the Forsaken.”

“I think we all know that you are never truly unarmed, Lady Proudmoore,” Liadrin drawled as she stepped forward from the rest of her knights. “I am sure that the Regent Lord informed you that the Forsaken are under his protection, and by extension, mine.”

“Were,” Jaina corrected, “protection has been passed to me. As I said, I have come to offer them a safe haven.”

Liadrin cocked a brow, keeping her sword at the ready, “and where pray tell, is that?”

“Theramore,” Jaina lowered her hands, “I wouldn't have come all of this way if I wasn't serious. I wouldn't lie about this either.” She waited until all of the Blood Knights had followed Liadrins lead and sheathed their swords before continuing, “I would speak with Blightcaller on this matter.”

“Why would you speak with Blightcaller?” Liadrin questioned, already walking back towards the temporary camp.

Jaina frowned, “I assumed that, as her Champion, he would lead in Sylvanas’ place if she were unable.”

“You and him both,” the shorter woman replied, “when we told them what had happened, Blightcaller tried to rally the Forsaken into some last-ditch attempt to free her from custody. That would have gone against the Regent Lords promise and so we were forced to detain him.”

Jaina couldn't suppress her grin at how Liadrin had spoken, “yes, I am sure that it was the last thing you wanted to do.” She glanced around at the camp and felt her heartache. Dead as they were, most of the people she could see did not look like the warrior undead she had faced countless times before. Most looked like simple farmers. Families. A small scattering of children. Tides, children had been taken by this curse. Jaina had never stopped to think that the Forsaken could possibly be so much like every other race on Azeroth, civilians and all.

It was a hard fact to face, and an even harder one to dwell on. So instead, she asked, “if not Blightcaller, than who is calling themselves interim leader?”

“That would be me,” a Forsaken woman answered as she ducked out of a nearby tent. She rested a hand on the handle of the blade she wore on her hip and narrowed her ghostly teal eyes at Jaina, “Lillian Voss,” she introduced coolly, “what does the Lord Admiral want with the Forsaken?”

“Getting them out of this horrid swamp, for a start,” Jaina tried, “get you all set up with a new city in the long run.”

“And why are you here?” Lillian asked, gripping the handle now, “what has been done with Sylvanas.” More Undead were gathering behind her now, and Jaina thought she spotted a few of the Dark Rangers.

Jaina stood tall in the face of the growing mob, “she is currently being kept in custody until she awakens to stand trial. Her fate is yet to be determined. As such protection of your people was taken on by the Sin’dorei, as I’m sure you are aware, and I have offered up my protection and land to you and yours.”

Lillian didn't look at all convinced, “and why should I believe that you would do this?”

Jaina couldn't meet Lillian's gaze anymore and quickly looked up above her head, unwittingly glanced upon one of the Val’kyr, floating near the far end of the camp. She felt as if the being was staring straight into her soul and she swallowed hard, “Derek. My brother.”

That did give the undead woman pause, “you allowed him to live?”

“Of course I did,” Jaina snapped, “he is my brother.”

“All right,” Lillian agreed, waving the rest of the Forsaken back to their tents, “why don't you show me where we shall be living.”

“I would also like to examine where they shall be living,” Liadrin cut in.

“I really don't think that would be the best idea,” Jaina said, leading the pair to a clear space to open the portal. “While the residual arcane energy will cause no harm to the Forsaken or myself, you're an elf. You are predisposed to over sensitivity to mana.” She watched as Liadrins ears lowered dangerously, waiting for the Blood Knight Matriarch to argue, only for her to grumble out something in Thalassian and pace away.

The teleportation spell came easily to Jaina, even without the aid of her staff. She closed her eyes and allowed herself to feel the ebb and flow of the arcane she channeled. And then, the pull. Like someone had tugged on a thread tied to her heart. Home. Even before Jaina opened her eyes, she could feel the residual mana leaking through the portal. “Shall we explore your new home, Miss Voss?” Jaina managed, only choking on her words a little.

Lillian passed through first and Jaina followed along, allowing the portal to fall closed behind them. Jaina was sure her heart froze in her chest when she finally looked upon the ruins. It was just as it was all those years ago. The remaining building still stood in ruin, crumbling and shattered. The wild arcane had indeed lessened substantially, but it still clawed at her claw, tugging at her mind and trying to coax her into falling into her memories.

“Lady Proudmoore?” Lillian's raspy voice dragged her back, “are you going to be okay with all of this latent mana?”

“Yes,” Jaina winced at how her voice cracked, “yes I’ll be fine.” As they walked across the remnants of the bridge, Jaina regarded the undead at her side with open interest, “You can feel it as well?”

Lillian hummed in thought, “faintly. Like something is pricking at my skin. It's odd, I normally can't feel much at all, let alone something that is almost,” her eyes narrowed as she searched for the right word, “pleasant?”

“That's good,” Jaina nodded as they came to stop near what had once been the barracks, “I had thought that this much raw mana may be beneficial to your kind. I’ll admit, at first it was a cause of concern, but now, it is a hope. I believe that overexposure to this much arcane could help to preserve your bodies. Slow or even stop the steady march of decay.”

“Lady Proudmoore,” Lillian looked up at Jaina with a raised brow, “are you saying that you mean to pickle us in arcane energy?”

Jaina had no hope of stopping the sudden bark of laughter that burst from her. It sounded too strange, her own laughter. Had it really been that long since she had had a good laugh? “Not that words I would have chosen, but yes, the idea is to indeed pickle you all in the arcane.” Jaina crossed her arms over her stomach, “so, Miss Voss, do think you and yours would like to be pickled in Theramore?”

Lillian made a show of thinking it over before finally nodding, “with your permission, Lord Admiral, we will have to remove many of the remaining structures, make way for our new accommodations.” She watched Jaina intently as she sucked in a harsh breath, “we would keep the original design intact, out of gratitude to our host.”

“Thank you,” Jaina whispered, “that would be appreciated.”

“Then we have a deal,” Lillian held out her hand.

“Yes, I suppose we do,” Jaina agreed, cautiously shaking the Undead leader's hand.

____________________________________________________________________

It had been an exhausting few days getting the Forsaken settled, in every sense of the word. Letting the Horde, the Forsaken, back into Theramore, through her own portal no less, had been hard enough. But helping them to carefully pull down walls and barricade the crater had been especially draining. She was almost glad to return to the meetings in Dalaran.

She readjusted her pauldron as she headed towards the main meeting room with Lillian at her side. She had expected to hear the shouting from down the hall, but all was oddly quiet. Her confusion only grew when she pushed open the door to see that the leaders seemed to have divided themselves. “Did something happen while I was away?”

Saurfang glared openly at Lillian, “I thought you were interning them on your island, Lady Proudmoore. Why have you allowed this one to follow you?”

Jaina bristled at the orcs tone, “I am not interning them there, I am allowing them to stay if they so choose. And she did not follow me. As the current leader of the Forsaken, Miss Voss has a seat in these meetings.” She glanced around the room, “now, did something happen?”

Thrall sighed heavily as he looked up at Jaina, “Sylvanas woke up, a few days ago. She claims to have amnesia. She doesn't remember what she did.”

“It isn't a claim if it's true!” Vereesa snapped.

“Amnesia?” Jaina’s brow furrowed as she looked to Lillian, who was already making herself comfortable at the table, “I didn't know that the undead could develop amnesia.”

Lillian shrugged one shoulder, “the undead mind can be a very fragile thing, like the rest of our bodies. It isn't uncommon for us to forget things.”

“So what do we do now?” Jaina asked.

Anduin rubbed at his eyes, “that's just it, Jaina. We don't know.” He motioned to where Saurfang sat with Tyrande and Genn, “they don't care that she doesn't remember what she did. That she can't defend their action. They want to go on with the trial as planned but,” he shook his head, “but I know in my heart that that is not right. It wouldn't be justice. Just vengeance for vengeance sake and if we go down that path then there is no telling how far we will spiral.”

“It would set a precedent for holding tyrants accountable for their actions, Anduin!” Genn snapped.

“Listen to yourself,” Baine huffed, “if you really believed that then we would be trying you for your assault against the Horde on the Broken Isles.”

“That was to stop her from whatever she had planned!” Genn retorted.

“Regardless,” Thalyssra cut in, really tired of the repetitive argument, “you would be able to defend yourself, Lord Greymane. To explain your actions. If her words are true, then she only knows what she has been told, and if my brief meeting with her is anything to go by, she is devastated by what she has been told.”

Jaina chewed at her lip, an old habit that she had tried to rid herself of to no avail. “So. Sylvanas has no memory,” she clarified, “morally, those of with no personal reasons to see her dead cannot try her for her crimes, nor can we kill her outright. By that logic, keeping her chained up in the hold is also morally wrong.”

Lor’themars ears flicked forward in interest, “and what is it that you propose we do?”

“Give the Banshee to me,” Jaina said simply.

Gallywix was the first to come out of his shock with a snort of laughter, “great idea, give the genocidal manic to the other genocidal maniac!”

Thrall glared at the offending goblin, “while the Trade Prince was crude in the way he worded his concern, he isn't wrong. Jaina, taking in the Forsaken is one thing, but Sylvanas?”

“I know that there is a difference,” Jaina ground out, “but we can't keep her locked in a cell if we aren't going to sentence her. So she will have to be confined in a place with strong enough magical wards to contain her, a mage strong enough to upkeep them. Proudmoore Keep, and--”

“The Nighthold,” Thalyssra finished with a wry smile, “the Lord Admiral makes a good point, and I doubt that any of you Alliance leaders would wish for Windrunner to be held in what is still Horde territory.” She looked from face to face, her ears twitching in amusement at the discomfort she saw at the idea, “so, my question is, how do you plan to keep her bound to your Keep?”

Jaina furrowed her brow, “a series of wards and runes, keyed into the Keeps existing wards to bind her to the grounds, and another set binding her soul fully to her body, as insurance should she remember. With your help, First Arcanist,” she leveled her steely glare at Gallywix, “to keep the genocidal maniacs in check.”

“Done,” Anduin agreed, rather suddenly, “I agree to this arrangement, should the Warchief find it to be agreeable. Baine?”

“You can't be serious, Anduin!” Genn snapped with open anger.

“Agreed. The Banshee is in your hands, Jaina,” Baine nodded to Jaina, “do what you must.”

“Thank you,” Jaina motioned for Thalyssra to follow, “shall we, First Arcanist?”

“I have been wanting to see Boralus for myself,” Thaylssra stood, smoothing out her robe, “Valtrois has told me much about it.”

____________________________________________________________________

Sylvanas looked up from the corner of her cell she had tucked herself into. Even with her deadened senses, she could feel the sheer amount of raw arcane power wafting down the corridor towards her cell. She expected a contingant of those Nightborne she had met, or a brigade of Spellbreakers. What she never would have expected was a human to come to stop infront of her cell.

Her ears flicked back as she looked the woman up and down. The woman was odd, even by human standards. From her stark white hair to her strange robes, to the near overpowering aura of power she exuded, she was strange. “Who are you then?”

The woman looked taken aback, “I am Jaina Proudmoore, Lord Admiral of Kul Tiras.”

“Proudmoore?” Sylvanas looked at Jaina more closely, “I know that name. The little human the Prince was always prattling on about.” She lowered her gaze to her hands, “he's dead too, isn't he?”

“I’m afraid so,” Jaina nodded, “I thought you would have been told that much.”

“No, it's been mostly accusations and people telling me what a monster I am,” Sylvanas forced a smile as her crimson eyes flashed, “so, tell me, what grievances the Lord Admiral of Kul Tiras have with… what did that old wolf call me? The Banshee?”

Jaina blinked, trying to reconcile what she was hearing with what she knew. The remark was still snide, too be sure, but the venom was gone. Was this really what she had been like when she was alive? Sylvanas was still staring at her, waiting. “None, I have no personal grievance with you. The Horde, yes. But not you.”

“We have that in common, Lord Admiral,” Sylvanas shifted against the wall, “are you to be my executioner then?”

“What?” Jaina balked, “no. No no, I am to be your new jailer. You are being transferred to Proudmoore Keep in Boralus. You will be bound to the land and have full freedom to roam the keep and the grounds, under constant guard.”

“I… I don't understand,” the elfs ears pinned back as she forced herself to her feet, “I am not to be executed?”

“Unless you regain your memories, the council has suspended your trial,” Jaina explained, trying to keep her voice calm, “most have agreed that we can't do that. Not even to you. So, they are giving you to me, if you agree.”

“I have a choice?”

Jaina shrugged, “it's either Boralus or this cell.”

Sylvanas made a choked sound in the back of her throat that could have been a laugh, “not much of a choice is it?”

“No, I don't suppose it is,” Jaina agreed.

“Does this mean I get these damnable things off?” Sylvanas raised her hands and lightly shook her chains.

“Yes, yes it does.”

“Then, Lord Admiral, I believe that you have yourself a prisoner.”

 


	6. Imprisonment

The first thing that Sylvanas noticed after the portal snapped shut behind the three of them, was how heavy the air felt. She found herself feeling thankful for her lack of need to breathe, for she feared that she may have drowned on dry land. Boralus was extremely human in its construction, all dull thick stone, and sea green shingles. The cobbles were chilly against her bare feet and the damp air made her already painful cuffs all the more uncomfortable. Not that Sylvanas would complain about any of these facts. For whatever reason, the Lord Admiral had offered up her home to be an open jail and Sylvanas was still unsure how long the arrangement would last.

“Kul Tiras is far more… Damp than I would have thought,” Thalyssra commented, pulling her silky robes a bit closer, trying to shield herself from the chill. She shot Jaina a look, quirking an eyebrow she added, “a word of warning would have been appreciated.”

Jaina offered the First Arcanist a small apologetic smile, “we had little time for talk.” With a small wave of her hand, Jaina cast a simple warming spell over Thalyssra, “but I would have thought a mage of your standing would have learned a few simple spells such as that.”

Thalyssra laughed a bright ringing sound, “my thanks, Admiral. It would seem that years of solely using far more advanced magics have dulled my creativity. We shall have to have a talk and trial of more basic magics, to renew my creativity.”

Before Jaina could reply, the gates of the Keep came into view. A host of heavily armed guards stood in their way, pikes and rifles aimed at the trio. At their heart, stood Katherine, her own rifle in hand.

“Are you always met by armed guards at the gate of your own home, Lord Admiral?” Sylvanas asked, her tone dry.

Shooting the risen elf a withering glare, Jaina walked towards her mother. “What is the meaning of this, Mother?”

“I should be asking you that, Jaina,” Katherine adjusted her grip on her weapon. “King Greymane sent a messenger ahead to inform me of what you did. What were you thinking, agreeing to keep that thing, not only alive but in the very heart of our country?”

Jaina clenched her fists, “I was thinking of trying to move past decades of senseless violence. Of doing what I thought was possible so long ago. I am trying to broker peace, Mother! And if keeping Sylvanas alive helps accomplish that? I fail to see how that is a bad thing.”

Katherine took a calming breath, “brokering peace with the Horde is one thing, my girl, but to allow this creature to live? It would be like leaving a wound to fester. I may not have been involved with the wars and battles of the rest of the world, but I have been told enough to know that she should be put back in the grave where she belongs.”

Jaina wanted to ask if she would put Derek back in his grave just as quickly. Wanted to twist that knife with petty comments just to hurt her. The words were right there, ready to fly as quickly and as accurately as her spells, but Jaina swallowed them down. She didn't want to be that petty, rage-filled person anymore. Instead, she closed her eyes and quickly counted to herself until her anger abated before finally replying. “You’re right, you haven't been involved. But I have been. I have ingrained myself into so my battles and met with so many people that I have learned to look past the cover of the books presented to me. I know as well as anyone, the crimes that she has had a hand in, but, I fully believe her words. She doesn't remember what she did. I can't let her rot away in a cage if she is possessed by the mind of an innocent woman.”

Her words did little if nothing at all to sway her Mothers stance on the matter, “I will not stand to have her in my home, regardless of what you believe, Jaina. I will not allow it.”

“It is not up to you to allow, Mother,” Jaina’s voice grew colder, “you passed the mantle of Lord Admiral to me, it is my choice to make. While I am always thankful for your advice, you hold no real power in Kul Tiras any longer.”

As if to prove her point, Jaina waved a hand at the guards, “stand down,” she ordered. She watched as the guards lowered their weapons reluctantly before turning her attention back to Katherine, “the Banshee stays, and if you really hold that much of an issue with the matter, you are more than free to leave the Keep.” The words tore at Jainas heart and she found herself wanting to snatch them back as quickly as they left her. What would she do if Katherine really did leave? She had only just gotten her back.

She need not have worried. Katherine narrowed her steely eyes as she passed off her rifle to a guard, “keep that thing well away from me,” she hissed before turning swiftly to stride back through the gates, the guards trailing after her.

A shuddering breath left Jaina and she lifted a tight fist to her chest. Her vision blurred slightly and she squeezed them shut to block out the gathering spots. The last time her mother had greeted her like that, she had been hauled off to Fates End and from there-- A gentle hand upon her shoulder caused Jaina to jump and whirl around.

Behind her, Thalyssra lifted her hands, her ears flicking back, “are you quite all right, Lord Admiral? I must say, I would have been quite shaken had my own mother greeted me with such a show of force.” Her eyes flicked down to the faint glow that had taken Jainas hands, “but the danger was not to you, and the three of us are well.”

Jaina looked down at her hands and quickly dissipate into the air, “yes. Thank you for your concern, First Arcanist.” She ran her fingers through her hair and motioned for the elves to follow her into the Keep. As they wound their way through the halls, Jaina caught a servent and bid them collect a great chest of storm silver from her storms before leading them out into the grounds.

“This is where I have buried the runestone that anchors the wards,” Jaina explained before she could stop herself. She glanced nervously at Thalyssra before, who was busying herself with examining the small garden they were in. She didn't seem all too interested in the location of the wards anchor. Relaxed by this, Jaina continued, “we will have to bind her to my land here.”

“I am standing right here,” Sylvanas snapped, ears pinned back. She rattled her chains to emphasize the fact.

“Apologize,” Thalyssra said for Jaina as she returned to the smaller elf. “Why did you request storm silver to her brought to us?” she asked.

“The runes need to be set into your skin,” Jaina addressed Sylvanas, “I am sorry to say, that the only way for the mana to fill them is through a conduit due to your,” she paused, trying to think of a polite way to word it, “condition,” she settled on.

“The fact that I am dead,” Sylvanas corrected, not unkindly, “you need not coddle me so.”

Jaina didn't know how to respond to that. Thankfully, she didn't need to flounder for long, as a pair of servants entered the garden with a chest teeming with storm silver, and a third baring the mage's staff. “Thank you,” Jaina inclined their head to them as they left the chest and retreated, casting fearful glances at Sylvanas. She ran her hand along her staff and stood it aside, magic holding it straight up before turned her attention to the chest, “First Arcanist, would you assist me in melting this down?”

“Gladly,” Thalyssra stepped up next to Jaina. The simple task was made all the more seamless by the two powerful mages, and soon the chest was full of molten silver.

The first step complete, Jaina turned to Sylvanas. She looked uneasy she spoke, “I’m afraid you’re going to have to disrobe, Lady Windrunner.” With a flick of her wrist, the shackles that bound the Banshees wrists fell to the ground with a soft thud. After taking a moment to rub at her raw skin, Sylvanas did as she was told without complaint. She even snorted a laugh when Jaina quickly diverted her eyes.

“Get on with it, Lord Admiral,” Sylvanas sighed, staring up at the lazy clouds.

When Jaina looked back at Sylvanas, her eyes her drawn almost magnetically to the large scar across her abdomen. Her minds raced as she tried to figure out what could have caused such a horrible wound before a soft ‘oh’ fell from her lips. Frostmourne. That had to have been the cause. Which meant that this scar was the blow that had felled the noble Ranger General.

“Where shall we start?” Thalyssra asked, pulling Jaina from her thoughts.

Jaina shook her head and took up her staff, motioning for the First Arcanist to do the same, “bind her to the ward first. Then we shall do the binding of her soul and finally her necromantic powers and scream,” she turned to Sylvanas, “the metal with fuse itself with your skin,” she grimaced, “I’m sorry.”

Sylvanas shrugged, raising her arms out to either side of herself, “I agreed to this, Lord Admiral. You have no need to say that you are sorry. Just be done with it.” To her credit, Sylvanas didn't flinch when the liquid silver made contact with her skin. Nor when it began to flow in intricate patterns around her ankles, steadily trailing upwards at the mages urgings. It flowed like quicksilver over her body. Sylvanas might have found it beautiful, had it not been causing her such great pain. She thought that her corpse of a body would be beyond such base things as pain, a hard way to learn that it could only feel it in great amounts. She dug her fangs cruelly into her lip to stifle a cry as the silver looped up over her hips to curl along her back.

The silver coiled around her throat like a choker, leaving delicate little runes in its wake, before twining down her arms. She was thankful for the humans' arms as she fell forward. They caught her as if the former ranger weighed no more than a kitten. The cool grass did little to soothe her pain as she was carefully laid down.

“We’re almost done,” Jaina said quietly as she brushed a lock of hair out of the Banshees eyes, “we just need to flood the silver with mana to activate the runes. Then I can show you to your quarters.” Where had this softness come from?

Sylvanas raised an eyebrow at that, “you are giving quarters to a prisoner?”

“I told you, all of the Keep is to be your prison. You will be free to roam, or to hide away in your rooms,” Jaina explained as she stood again. With a nod to Thalyssra, Jaina drew the tip of her staff in a semi-circle around where Sylvanas still lay, the Arcanist completing it with her own staff. With their muttered words of power, the silver bound to Sylvanas glowed a near blinding violet light, while Sylvanas’ mouth fell open in a silent scream. Jaina wanted to look away, wanted to stop the binding ritual. When had that long withered kind heart of hers begun to bloom again?

It was over quickly. Thalyssra knelt down next to Sylvanas. She helped the risen elf sit up before hauling her to her feet, “are you still with us, Lady Windrunner?”

“Unfortunately,” Sylvanas rasped. Her skin felt like it was burning from the inside and she flinched when she felt a cool robe be draped across her shoulders. “Thank you, Admiral,” her ears shuddered as she pulled the cloak tighter around herself.

Jaina said nothing for a time. “I’ll have fresh clothing brought to your chambers. I won't have you wearing those rags anymore.”

“Thank you again,” Sylvanas bowed her head.

____________________________________________________________________

That night found Jaina tossing and turning in her bed. Though her nightmares had become less frequent, they still affected her just the same as when they had begun. She awoke with a gasp, fumbling in the dark to free herself from the tangled net her blankets had become. Once freed, she stood from her bed and hastly set a fire in the hearth. Jaina sat down before the flames, ignoring the way her sweat soaked night gown clung to her skin.

She focused on her breathing. Deeping through her nose, out through her mouth. Slowly, the racing of her heart began to calm and Jaina felt exhaustion settle deep in her bones. That day had been long and strenuous and as much as Jaina longed to crawl back into her bed, she knew that she would find no peaceful sleep this night.

Rather than waste the night, laying in bed and wishing for sleep that would not come, Jaina pushed herself to her feet and stripped herself of her nightgown in favor of a dry one and settled herself at her desk, lighting the candle with a swirl of her finger. From the small decanter set to the side, Jaina poured herself a small glass of whiskey and get to work.

She had fallen behind on much of her paperwork, what with the push into Quel’thalas and the meetings thereafter. Normally, her mother would assist her with such matters, but with their earlier fight, Jaina thought it best not to bother her. After all, she had told her that she no longer held power on the islands.

She lost track of how long she had been working. Long enough that the sound of a gentle knock on her door caused her to jump. She stood from her chair and grabbed up her staff, “entire.”

The door, that had been partially open, creaked as Sylvanas stepped inside, “forgive me, Lord Admiral. I was wandering the halls when I noticed a light from beneath this door,” she tugged at the sleeve of her loose-fitting linen shirt, “had I known this was your bedchamber, I would have passed it by.”

“What are you doing up and about, Lady Windrunner?” Jaina asked, setting her staff aside.

Sylvanas’ ears pinned back, “it would seem that this body does not require sleep, try as I might. And, please, don't call me Lady Windrunner. I am your prisoner, there is no need for titles.”

“Very well,” Jaina agreed, tight-lipped, “Sylvanas.”

The elf inclined her head, but hovered in the doorway, “why are you awake, Admiral? I may not have need of rest, but you are mortal, sleep is very important.”

Jaina looked away, pulling her loose hair over her shoulder. “Sleep does not come easy for me,” Jaina admitted, unsure of why she had done so. Sylvanas was still, for all intents and purposes, her enemy and prisoner. She should be sending her away, not entertaining her questions. But, in the crimson depths of her eyes, Jaina saw an earnestness that she had never seen in the Banshee. She was genuinely concerned about her and Jaina didn't know how to process this.

“There is a vast library,” Jaina found herself saying, “just down the hall. Perhaps you would enjoy passing the time reading up on recent history?”

Sylvanas mulled this over, “yes, I believe I shall. But, Lord Admiral, do try and rest. Perhaps some tea in space of the drink you have been nursing.” She didn't give Jaina time to respond. She bowed at the waist and made a hasty retreat down the hall.

Jaina didn't know how to process what had just happened. She hadn't been prepared for what this arrangement would ultimately include. Having the Banshee, Warchief of the Horde, Burner of Teldrassil, Queen of the Forsaken, wandering her halls was just something that she would have to get used to.

Returning to her desk, Jaina lifted her whiskey glass and regarded it coldly. With a single sharp movement, Jaina tossed the remains into the fire.

 


	7. Solitary

Without the aid of sleep to pass away the time, the days crawled by with a painful slowness for Sylvanas. A fact made worse by the lack of structure and routine. Her entire life had been in careful order, even as a child. From the tiniest of things like having to be back at the Spire before the mage lights lit the village streets, to matters of great importance to meetings with her captains once a week. Meals, sleep, marches. Everything in her life had been in order. Now, the only thing that she could rely on, were the guards that came and searched her room every morning.

She would be made to stand, shackled between two burly guards while another three turned her room upside down, spilling the scant contents of every drawer and tearing apart her seldom-used bed. And always, before leaving, pulling down the scrap of cloth that covered her mirror. Sylvanas would slink in when they were done and quickly put the cloth back in place, being ever careful not to catch a glimpse of herself. One of the few things that had survived her death wholly intact, was her streak of vanity. The sight of the burn marks beneath her burning eyes repulsed her and intrigued her in equal measure. In all her time fighting the Scourge, she had never seen an undead with eyes the color of blood.

In the days that passed, she asked for little. What right did a war criminal have to ask for anything? She wandered the halls alone, don't even the guards dared to stay close to her. Alone. That was something she hadn't truly been in ages. Sylvanas had always had company, whether she wanted it or not. Ranger squads were rarely apart, training and riding as one, even sleeping in close quarters. Safety in numbers, her mother had always told her. It was why no Ranger ever patrolled alone, always with at least one other. And even before joining the ranks of the Rangers, the Windrunners had been a tight-knit family.

Not as tight as she had once thought, it turned out. Sylvanas didn't blame her sisters for not coming to visit her. Blood could only bind a family so close before the threads began to fray. She was a convicted murderer, a walking corpse. Why should they look past what they remembered? That she had tried to kill them. No, it was probably for the best that they kept their distance, no matter how much it crushed her.

It was on the morning of her ninth day in the Keep that Sylvanas decided to make a request. After finishing cleaning her room, Sylvanas donned a fresh shirt of pale green and set off in search of a notebook and some charcoal.

The first servant she had come across had fled before she could even utter a greeting, fear clear in his eyes. This had irked Sylvanas immensely. She was unarmed, bound by magic and doing her best to appear smaller than she already was. What did the boy think she was going to do? Shout at him? The second servant was no more help than the last, all thought, Sylvanas had to admit that she was quite a bit braver. If spitting at the feet of a monster could be called bravery. Letting the insult slide, Sylvanas made her way to the library, hoping to catch someone there. As luck would have it, one of the servants that had proven to be far more tolerant of her presence was in the process of tidying up, his greying hair pulled back into a short ponytail. “Begging your pardon,” Sylvanas dredged up all of the polite court manners she could muster, “I was hoping you could fetch me a notebook and a bit of charcoal.”

The servant squared his shoulders as she turned to face her, “And what would you need those for?”

“Mapping,” Sylvanas answered simply, “I grow tired of getting lost in these halls.”

The servant thought about it for a long moment before finally moving towards a small storage closet, set between a pair of shelves.

She couldn't help but notice how the man went about handing over her requested item, ever careful not to touch her cold skin. “Thank you… I’m sorry, I don't believe I got your name.”

“Rivers,” he provided, his brown eyes softening slightly, “Rigby Rivers.”

Sylvanas inclined her head, “Thank you, mister Rivers. Perhaps I shall gift you a sketch, to show my gratitude. She left the man to wallow in his confusion. No doubt her offer was the last thing he would have ever expected. A tiny bit a mischieve, but more than ever to bring a small smile to her face.

Starting at the main gates, Sylvanas began to make her map. As she walked closer to the impressive gate, Sylvanas felt a prickle run through the silver on her skin. It was easily ignored, as she continued sketching out her map, but she quickly learned that she should have heeded the feeling for what it had been. A warning.

A flash of violet light sent Sylvanas crashing to the ground, convulsing from the aftershocks of the arcane charge. Loud laughter caused her ears to pin back as she struggled to sit up and she silenced the guards with a sharp glare and a low hiss, sending them scrambling back to their posts. “Chattering fools,” Sylvanas mumbled as she turned to look at what had shocked her. The place she had walked into still faintly glowed, but this didn't last as it faded, leaving no trace of what had so effortlessly bounced her back. “The ward,” she huffed. The Admiral hadn't warned her of what exactly would happen if she came in contact with it. Whether due to malicious intent, or a slip of the mind, it didn't much matter to the risen elf. All it meant was that she had an extra thing to add to her map.

Sylvanas wandered the grounds for the better part of the day. She paid close attention to the mana prickling along the surface of her skin and made a mark on her map every time it came to close to how it felt before she touched the ward.

Every guard she had passed has stiffened, their hands going to their weapons. Sylvanas stood tall and did her best to let their distrust roll off her back. But despite her best efforts, it slowly grated on her. It wasn’t just the looks. It was the curses and threats. Always spoken in quiet tones. Voices low enough that no human could have heard them from the distance they were spoken. But Sylvanas was no human and she struggled to stop her ears from moving in the direction of every uttered insult. She would not give them the satisfaction.

Finding the hedge maze had been a rather unexpected boon. None of the guards seemed willing to follow Sylvanas inside and that was more than enough reason for her to hurry inside. She mapped it out carefully. Every possible route and dead-end was noted until she finally came to the center. It was like stepping into an oasis in a desert, completely cut off from the rest of the Keep, with only the gentle sound of the fountain to keep her company.

It was peaceful. Tranquil, even.

Sylvanas perched on the lip of the fountain, closed her eyes, and allowed herself to drift away. The sun may not have been as hot as it was in Quel’thalas, but if she allowed her mind to wander far enough, she could almost imagine that she was back in the forests of her home.

Home. That was a bitter thought. She supposed that she would never again set foot there. Never ride freely among the ancient tree. Never smell the crisp breezes that cut the heat of the high sun. Never gaze upon the tall spires of Silvermoon, or swim through the rivers. Just another thing lost to her.

She didn't even know how much of her homeland was still as she remembered it. How much had the Scourge destroyed? Did any of the old trees remain? How much of Silvermoon's structure had survived? And what of the Spire? Did the bastard wheel his army around and tear it down as he left?

She most have been well and truly lost in her thoughts, as the gentle calling of her name caused her to startle. Sylvanas hurried to her feet, ready to face down whatever threat had managed to creep up on her. Only to find Jaina standing just at the entrance to the center of the maze. She bowed stiffly, refusing to meet the other woman's stormy gaze. Sylvanas had gone out of her way to avoid the Lord Admiral after her first night in the Keep, unwilling to accidentally draw her ire after disturbing her.

“Lord Admiral,” Sylvanas straighten and stare at a portion of the hedge just over Jainas shoulder, “did you need something?”

Jaina looked a bit taken aback, “no, nothing needed. I’ve just returned from Dalaran and the guards said you had been in here for quite some time. They asked me to come and find you.” She watched Sylvanas closely, “they say that you've been poking around at the wards all day.”

“I have,” the elf confirmed evenly.

“Why?” The change was so sudden that had she not been watching, Jaina would have missed it.

Sylvanas’ eyes hardened and her ears shifted back as she bared her fangs, “am I not allowed to know the edges of my cage, Lord Admiral?” she spat. When Jaina said nothing, she pressed on, “did I ruin the little game you and the guards had? Spoil your fun?” She was shaking now, “did you also wish to get a few laughs at watching me bump into it like a blind strider let loose in a stable? Hmm? Is that why you neglected to tell me what would happen if I got to close? If I touched your Light forsaken wards!?”

Jaina’s eyes widened when the silver that looped around Sylvanas’ neck began to faintly glow. She held up her hands in a pacifying gesture, “Sylvanas, please calm yourself. If you keep this up--”

“Here,” Sylvanas snapped, tossing the notebook to Jaina’s feet, “take my maps. Reset your damned wards. Leave me to wallow here alone. I’m sure you’ll all enjoy further tormenting a woman who cants even begin to defend herself. Who has nothing! Who has lost everything! Who has struggled day in and day out to feel something, ANYTHING that isn't hate or rage? Who longs for a taste any anything but this torment! Who--” Her words were cut short as the runes around her neck flared. With a choked sound, Sylvanas collapsed to her knees, clawing fruitlessly at the silver.

Not all that long ago, Jaina wouldn't have cared about the scene before her. She might have even enjoyed it. Now, however, Jaina found herself kneeling in front of the Banshee to talk to her in a soothing voice, “be calm, now. This will pass soon. Be calm.”

It did pass. The burst of mana faded, taking the burning pain with it. Sylvanas dug her fingers into the earth, needing to physically ground herself. “What did you do to me?” she rasped.

“These runes ward all of the magic and powers of your Banshee spirit,” Jaina explained, “just now, whether you were aware of it or not, you tried to unleash your scream. The runes blocked this.”

“Banshee… spirit,” Sylvanas repeated, “not just a name then… but a classification.”

Jaina frowned, “yes. That is why you must try and control your tempter. If you don't,” she gently tapped the silver, “these are just going to keep hurting you.”

“A spirit,” Sylvanas murmured. “Leave me,” she glared at Jaina, “Leave!” Once the Admiral had left, taking her pity with her, Sylvanas scooped her notebook with a trembling hand and began to retrace her way out of the maze.

____________________________________________________________________

Black ichor oozed slowly from the gashed in her knuckles, dripping down to mingle with the shards her shattered mirror. The guards had been feeling particularry vandictive that morning and had taken every spare bit of cloth from her room. With nothing to cover it, Sylvanas could do nothing but gaze upon herself.

Anger had bubbled up in her like a spring. She wanted to scream and rage and lash out, but the runes prevented much. Instead, her fist had found the glass. Over and over until all that remained were the pieces upon the floor. But even those were not safe from her fury as she fell to her knees before one of the larger pieces and rained blow after blow down upon the mirror shard until her reflect in it was so fractured that she was unrecognizable.

A knock on her door caused her head to snap up. “Yes?” she croaked.

“The Lord Admiral requests your presence in her study,” a servant called. It sounded like Mister Rivers.

Sylvanas let her head fall against the floor, “relay that I will join her shortly.” She waited until she could no longer hear the servant to force herself to her feet and walked sluggishly to the study.

Jaina rose from her desk when Sylvanas entered. Her eyes were drawn immediately to Sylvanas’ hands and worry crossed her face, “what happened?”

“I had a run-in with my mirror,” the elf shrugged, not caring that the ichor was still dripping down her fingers.

With a soft sigh, Jaina walked around the desk, summoning a small roll of bandages. “Sit down,” she ordered gently. She kneeled in front of her and began to carefully bandage her hands. “I am sorry for how you have been treated here. Starting today, I would like to invite you to sit in here with me, while I work.”

Sylvanas’ brow furrowed, “why would you offer that?”

“For the company,” Jaina said, tying off the last bandage, “It isn't right for you to have to be trapped here alone. I’m your jailor, not your tormentor. It may also help you handle your anger, having someone to talk to.”

For a long while, Sylvanas was quiet. She searched the younger woman's face for any signs of deceit. Finding none, she inclined her head, “thank you, Lord Admiral. I accept this new offer of yours.”

 


	8. Visitation Rights

“What’s this then?” Sylvanas eyed the handle that Rigby held out to her, her ears pinned back warily. She had been sitting in the gardens, sketching in her book, after spending the morning with Jaina when he had approached her.

Rigby raised a brow at her, “do you elves not use knives? To fancy for them, Lass?”

“You do realize that I am a few centuries older than you are, don’t you?” Sylvanas deadpanned, drawing a burst of laughter from the old man.

“Aye, but you don’t look it. So ‘Lass’ it is,” Rigby held the knife out again, “go on now. Take it.”

Sylvanas eyes narrowed, “I’d rather not. You seem to forget that I am a prisoner. A hated one at that. I would prefer not to give the guards an actual reason to be wary.”

“I thought you might say that,” Rigby sighed as he pulled the knife from it's finely tailored sheath. Before Sylvanas could say anything to stop him, Rigby drew the knife across his palm. He barked out a laugh at the look of horror that crossed her face as he showed her his palm, unscathed. “Don't fret, Lass. I had this enchanted by the Lord Admiral herself. The only thing this will be cutting is wood.”

“Wood?” Sylvanas questioned as she finally accepted the knife, “why would I want to cut wood?”

“The Lord Admiral told me about your,” he paused, thinking over his words, “anger problems. She doesn't like seeing you hurting yourself when your control slips. So I told her to let me teach you wood carving. That is all about control and seeing the bigger picture.” Rigby tossed her a small piece of wood that he pulled from a pouch on his belt before sitting himself on the fountain's edge with his own knife and piece, “I was quite the troublesome child, always getting into things I wasn't supposed to, so my mother taught me to carve. To keep my hands busy. Perched birds, ducks, are a good place to start.”

Sylvanas watched the way he carefully began to shave away chips of wood. Little by little. Piece by piece. She blinked when she noticed that she could see what it is he planned to make. A little fox. Leaning against the fountain, Sylvanas turned the wood in her hands, deep in thought. Finally, when she was sure that she knew what to do, she began to carve. She started slow, only taking little chips at a time. Soon enough, however, she grew more confident and the wood began to take shape. Rigby had been right, it was rather calming. Before she knew it, the sun was beginning to set and she held a rather misshapen sparrow in her hands.

Rigby stood, his back cracking loudly, “I’m getting too old to be sitting on stone all day.”

“You didn’t have to stay out here,” Sylvanas told him with a frown.

He smiled at that, “nonsense. It’s my day off and you are good company.”

Sylvanas snorted, “you truly enjoy the company of a corpse?” She shook her head, “you don’t have to lie to me, Mister Rivers. Though I appreciate the sentiment all the same.”

“A lie?” Rigby clapped her firmly on the shoulder with just enough force to send her stumbling a step forward. “You may walk in the body of a corpse, but your soul is alive and bright. I see it, and I know that the Admiral does too.” He offered her a kind smile and squeezed her shoulder, “take that to heart. Goodnight, Sylvanas.”

Sylvanas stared at the maze exit long after he had left. A strange feeling settled in her chest, chasing away the vast emptiness that had been there since she had awoken in her cell. Absently, Sylvanas rubbed a hand over her heart, her nails catching on the silver that curled there. Her brow furrowed as she realized that, for the first time since coming to the Keep, she felt, content.

Just over the top of the hedge, Sylvanas could see the rooftop of the Keep as she made her way back. She hadn't stayed out this late in a few days. No doubt the guards would be upset.

Unwilling to test their patients, Sylvanas took the shortest route to her rooms by cutting through the hall containing the Admirals chambers. She stopped short when she saw light shining out from beneath Jainas door.

She frowned as worry crept into her mind. The last time she had seen a light this late, the Admiral had not been faring well. She hardly thought twice about her actions as she carefully placed her knife on the floor beside the door and knocked. When no response came she knocked again, “Admiral? Are you alright?”

“I’m fine,” Jaina’s voice cracked as she replied. She shuffled around before adding, “come in, Sylvanas.”

Easing the door open, Sylvanas slipped inside. Despite the fire that roared in the hearth, Sylvanas could still faintly feel the chill in the air. Jaina was huddled up on her bed, resting her chin on her knees, her snowy hair hanging around her. “You don't look fine,” Sylvanas commented, doing her best to keep her voice soft.

“Nightmares,” Jaina shrugged, too tired to lie to the elf to her face, “they come and they go. Here more often than not.”

“I would imagine that having Azeroth's number one enemy residing under your roof doesn't help them,” Sylvanas’ ears twitched back.

“No,” the human sighed, “I’ll admit, a few of my more recent nightmares have been of you killing me or my family. Dragging me back from death. As I knew you, you were horrifying.”

“And yet you offered up your home to me,” Sylvanas crossed her arms, “you make very little sense, Admiral.”

Jaina looked over to her, her eyes briefly flashing with a flare of mana, “do you think me mad?”

“Yes. Mad and brave, though in my experience those two are not so far removed from each other.”

“Suppose I must be mad. It's the only way that any of this makes sense to me. Even being in my home again.” Jaina swung her legs off of her bed and made to stand, only to sway dangerously forward. Sylvanas was by her side before she even registered that she was falling, catching her in cool arms and easing her back onto her bed.

“It’s late,” Sylvanas quickly stepped back, “you should be sleeping.”

With a dry laugh, Jaina replied, “were it that simple, I would easily sleep the night away. But my mind is a tangled net, lately. I don't even know why I am telling you this. Weapons you could turn against me should your memory return.”

Ah, yes. The looming threat that hung over them both. “I don't want to remember,” Sylvanas muttered, her ears pinned back. She trailed her fingers absently along the silver on her wrist in what had become a habit. A way of grounding herself, “I am afraid of what will happen to me. From what I’ve been told, I ended up very different after my death and no one can tell me why.”

“There are some tea leaves in the jar on my desk,” Jaina found herself saying, “would you mind putting some in the teapot on my desk?”

Pulled from her thoughts, Sylvanas gave Jaina a curious look, “you want me to make you tea?”

Jaina shrugged, “you want me to sleep. The tea helps me sleep. And as you saw, I apparently can't get it myself.” She watched the elf scoop some of the leaves into the empty teapot before returning to her bedside with the tea tray. Drawing a rune in the air about the pot, filling it with piping water.

After allowing it to steep, Jaina poured them each a cup. The first sip soothed her, the gentle mint warming her. “How is it?” Jaina asked when she noticed Sylvanas just staring at her cup.

“It tastes of nothing,” Sylvanas said, frowning.

“I guess tea must be stronger in Quel’thalas.”

“No. It literally tastes of nothing,” Sylvanas deposited her cup on the tray as she stood. “It would seem that taste is just yet another thing that has been taken from me.” Bowing stiffly, she retreated to the door, “try and sleep, I shall see you in the morning.”

____________________________________________________________________

Sylvanas made her way slowly towards the Lord Admiral's office. After leaving the night before, she had returned to her room and sat on her bare bed, carving a new sparrow. Her conduct towards the Admiral and her kindness had been very unbecoming of one who was once the Ranger General. She would have to make it up to her.

“Sorry for arriving so early, Admiral, I just wanted to--” froze when she saw that it was not Jaina who stood near the window, but her mother. She hadn't seen the Lady Proudmoore since she had first arrived, she had begun to think that Katherine had left as Jaina had suggested. “Apologize, Lady Proudmoore. I was expecting the Lord Admiral,” Sylvanas said, bowing stiffly.

“I’m sorry to disappoint, but my daughter was called away early this morning to tend to matters in her other territory,” Katherine sniffed, “I do hope that you find my company to be a suitable replacement.” She motioned to the seat at the table across from her, “do sit.”

Taking the other seat across from the elf, Katherine tapped the board on the table, “have you ever played chess?”

“A few times,” Sylvanas kept her face carefully neutral, “my prince was quite fond of your human games and often brought them best to Silvermoon with him.”

“Then you know that it is a game of strategy,” Katherine said, “I am told that you were once a great strategist. A brilliant general.”

“Am,” Sylvanas corrected coolly, “I am a great strategist. Death has done little to dull my mind.”

“Indulge me then,” Katherine leaned back, “white goes first, so let us begin.”

____________________________________________________________________

In such a short time, Theramore had blossomed into a booming city once more. Market stalls lined the waterfront as the Forsaken shopkeepers called out their wares to the visitors to the city. Mostly Horde races, but that was to be expected, but Jaina was shocked to see a Dwarf bartering for fishing gear. This was what she had dreamed for her island when she had founded it. For it to be a place open and free to all.

Friendly greetings were called out to her as she made her way down to the docks. While she had been called to have a meeting with Lilian, there was someone she had to see first.

She hopped from the dock onto the deck of a small finely constructed houseboat. “Ahoy!” she called as she wrapped her fist on the door. She shifted from foot to foot until the door opened.

“Jaina!” Derek smiled at her when he opened the door. He looked far better than he did when Jaina had sent him away for fear that Sylvanas had already corrupted him. His face was less pale and his eyes had taken on a violet hue. “It's good to see you again,” he stepped aside to usher her inside, taking her cloak to hang up. “What brings you all the way from Boralus?”

“Does a sister need an excuse to come and visit her big brother?” Jaina offered him a smile as she leaned her staff against the wall.

“Anyone elses sister, maybe not,” Derek chuckled, setting a kettle on the small stove in the corner.

Jaina chuckled, “you caught me there. Lilian called me here, said she had something important to talk to me about.”

“Might have something to do with how upset the Rangers have been lately,” Derek hummed.

“The Rangers?”

“Yeah, they've been very agitated. Been taking it out on the residents. Pointlessly upping security and hassling the vendors,” he explained. Pouring the contents of the kettle into two chipped mugs, Derek joined his sister at the table. “Forsaken tea,” Derek explained, handing Jaina a mug.

Jaina took a sip of the drink and blinked in confusion, “Derek, this is just hot water.”

Derek laughed. It was a cracked sound, a shadow of the bright joyous sound that Jaina remembered, “yes, yes it is. Though we cannot taste anything, we can still feel the warmth flooding through us. It's… calming.”

“I’ll have to remember that for Sylvanas,” Jaina muttered.

“How is she?” Derek looked at Jaina with concern, “is it true? Did she really forget?”

“Yes. It's made her being in the Keep rather jarring. Even now I expect the Banshee but… she is rather kind, caring.”

Derek's hands shook as he drank, “that… after what she planned… it is rather hard to take in. Sylvanas… kind. I think I am the only undead that is in doubt of that trait. Everyone else here still revers her. But… I am glad that she is being allowed some semblance of peace.”

“I’m glad that you've found peace here, Derek,” Jaina squeezed his hand, “I’ll have to talk to mother about bringing you home.”

Setting his mug aside, Derek held Jainas hand between his own, “I am home, Jaina. This place, your island, it's a safe haven for the undead. The Rangers keep out anyone that would wish us harm, and the mages channel and discharge the mana in the air so that we can have thriving trade. While I would love to visit Boralus again, this is where I belong now, Jaina.”

At this, Jaina rounded the table and pulled her brother into her arms. He was still so cold, but she could feel the arcane energy that now flowed through him, “I look forward to your visit. And I'll try to visit you more often.”

“You're a busy woman,” Derek smiled as he stepped back. “Go on, you have a meeting to get to.”

With a word of farewell, Jaina left the cabin and made her way to the large manor on the edge of the crater. It was where Lilian had chosen to build the home of herself and the Rangers. As she walked, Jaina noticed the hooded elves on the rooftops, glaring down at her. Apparently, the Rangers were angry with her.

Jaina let herself into the manor and made her way towards the study, her staff echoing through the empty halls. “Sorry I'm late, Lilian,” she said as she took her seat across the desk from the undead leader, “I was visiting with my brother.”

Lilian waved her off, “I have all the time in the world and little to fill it with these days. Especially since I have been relieved of a few of my charges.”

Jainas eyes narrowed, “what do you mean by that?”

“Were you not informed?” Lilian blinked, “Tyrande came by, asked for her Sentinels to be returned to her so that she could bring them back into the arms of her goddess. They all agreed and so, a few less elves.”

“No, I was not informed,” Jaina grit out, “is that why you called me here?”

“Unfortunately, no,” Lilian leaned back into her high backed chair, “there has been an… incident. I was hoping that we could settle this internally, but I can only spare so many Rangers to deal with this. Nathanos has escaped the isle.”

“He what!?” Jaina jumped to her feet, “and you are just telling me now?”

“I trusted in the Rangers ability to track him down,” the undead explained calmly, “but it would seem, that his living title of Ranger Lord was not just a title.”

“Do you know what would happen if he were to get to Sylvanas?” Jaina breathed out, digging her nails into the desk, “he will try to drag her back and I--” she cut herself off, “we cannot afford that. I’ll have to increase security… I might even have to limit her freedoms. Thank you for informing me.”

Lilian shrugged, “it's my duty to keep our protector informed, to help you keep us safe and happy.”

Jaina looked up, “speaking of. Derek mentioned that the Rangers are quite unhappy. Is this because of the incident?”

“No, their current mood is because of you,” Lilian huffed, “you've been ignoring their requests for visitation. They are, understandably upset about being kept from their General.”

“I haven't received any visitation requests,” Jaina told her. She hadn't, at all. Now that Jaina thought about it, no word from either of the Windrunner sisters. Her face darkened and mana crackled from her fingers, “who has been put in charge of relaying these requests to me?”

“The Worgan.”

Jaina had heard enough. She snatched up her staff and channeled her magic into a portal to Stormwinds castle. Without another word to Lilian, Jaina stepped through, snapping it closed behind her. “Greymane!” she roared as she stalked through the halls like a winter storm. Her hair flew about her wildly and her eyes her near blinding with her constant expelation of mana.

It didn't take her long to find him, following the fearful directions of guards and servants. The old king was pacing the throne room. “You have NO right to be blocking requests to see her!”

Genn narrowed his eyes and straightened as the mage approached, “what has she done to deserve the company of her fellow corpses? I wouldn't have thought you would want more.”

“Sylvanas is MY prisoner and I shall be the one to decide whether or not she receives visitors!” Jaina snarled, “and I don't think that it is just the Forsaken whose requests you have blocked. You're blocking her sister as well, aren't you?”

“You would call that creature by her given name?” Genn snapped, “did it manage to weasel into your heart that easily? Yes, I’ve blocked the requests. The Banshee has been given more than enough leniency in her freedom from a cell, she doesn't need guests on top of that.”

The temperature dropped dangerously, to the point that even with the shift to his wogan form, Genn shivered terribly. “Listen well, Greymane. If you interfere with how I handle her again, you will have more to worry about than a bit of frostbite. I am trying to keep our world from tearing itself apart again. It is time for your petty feud with her to end.” She tapped her staff on the floor loudly, opening another portal, “and until you decide to act like a reasonable adult, you and your followers are not to step foot in Boralus.”

____________________________________________________________________

By the time Jaina returned to the Keep, with a small contingent of Rangers, she was exhausted. It had been a while since she had ported as much as she made and tearing into Stormwinds still active antimagic defenses had taken quite a toll on her. Even still, she felt good. She turned to the nearest of the four Rangers she had brought with her, Marrah, “place wait out in the gardens, I will bring her out to you. While much of my staff have gotten used to one undead elf, I fear that five maybe a few too many for them to handle.”

She hurried through the halls in search of Sylvanas, catching Rigby as she passed, “have you seen Sylvanas?”

“Aye, she's been with your mother all day. I think--”

With a new rush of panic, Jaina ran towards her office. She expected to see signs of a fight when she opened the door, not the two women laughing over a chessboard. “What is going on here?” she asked, dumbfounded.

“Sylvanas was just telling me about how she once stopped a small brigade of trolls with a few barrels of explosive laced hawkstrider dung,” Katherine explained, taking a sip of her wine, “not a tactic I ever would have thought of, even in my youth.”

Her mother and Sylvanas had spent the day together and neither of them were hurt. They were joking and swapping stories. That was a hurl ship that she didn't have time to unload. She cleared her throat, doing her best to hide her surprise, “Sylvanas, you have some guests in the garden.” She motioned for the elf to follow her and lead she outside to the gardens.

When they walked out, the four Rangers snapped to attention. Sylvanas stared at them wide-eyed. “You all… died as well,” she took a shaky step forward before hurrying over to them, lapsing into rapid Thalassian.

“The portal back to Theramore will close at midnight,” Jaina informed them, “it's just outside the gate. Be sure that you are through it before it closes.” She offered them a smile before excusing herself.

____________________________________________________________________

Despite her exhaustion, Jaina couldn't sleep. The Rangers had all left well before her inforced curfew and she had little to worry about on that front. Yet still, she was restless. Without really thinking about it, Jaina grabbed her teapot and a pair of cups and made her way to the maze.

She stopped when she reached the center and watched Sylvanas as she carved away at a small block of wood. “Mind if I join you?”

Sylvanas glanced at her, “it's your maze, is it not?”

Jaina shrugged, “true, but you have chosen it to be your sanctuary. I won't intrude here without your permission.”

“Then, yes. You may join me,” Sylvanas responded, setting aside her knife and carving.

“I’m glad to see that you are enjoying the knife,” Jaina said as she conjured hot water into the teapot, “I’m glad Rigby suggested it.”

“I would enjoy an enchanted bow a bit more,” Sylvanas said with a flash of a smile.

Jaina chuckled, “I don't think the guards would be as comfortable with you walking around with a bow than they are with a knife.”

Sylvanas laughed in kind, attempting the cup that was handed to her, “and what is it that I shall not be tasting tonight?”

“Forsaken tea,” Jaina said drinking from her own cup, “it's what all the undead are drinking in Theramore.”

Ears perked in interest, Sylvanas took a sip, and then another. She sighed as warmth filled her, “what is it made from?”

“Water, and a bit of heat.”

“Water… just… hot water?” Sylvanas questioned.

Jaina nodded, running her finger along the rim of her cup, “my brother told me that your people find it calming. I thought you might as well.”

“Your brother,” the elf repeated, “did I?”

“Yes,” Jaina breathed you, “you had him brought back from the dead. But I do not hold that against you. I lost him when I was very young, and if he can be happy as he is now, then I will gladly accept this chance to have him back in my life. So thank you, Sylvanas. For giving him back to me.” She didn't know why, but she rested her weight against the elf, allowing her head to fall against her shoulder. Jaina didn't even startle when a cool arm wrapped around her, holding her upright.

Jaina didn't know how long she stayed that way, nor when she had drifted off. All she knew was that she awoke the next morning, far later than she normally would, tucked snuggly into her bed.

Sitting on her bedside table was a small lopsided carving of a bear pointed towards her pillow. Jaina smiled and reached out to touch the carving. “A dream guardian,” she whispered allowing herself to sink back against the pillows. Well, if she would be granted restful sleep, a few more minutes couldn't hurt.

 


	9. Parole

In all her years as a leader in various cities, Jaina had become quite adept at writing condolence letters. Decades of conflict had lead to near countless warriors dying for her orders. Those were the letters she was used to writing. Letters for someone who had lost a loved one to sickness? Not so much. She had no words to offer about how brave the man was, how selfless. She hadn't even known that Rigby had been ill. He had requested leave to return to Drustvar to spend time with his family and all that had been returned was a letter explaining what had happened.

Rigby had been a good man. A loyal man. He had served her household since her Fathers time as Lord Admiral and had taken everything in stride. Be that conflict, power struggles, or an oddly friendly banshee. Rigby and Sylvanas seemed to have become fast friends in the months that she had spent in the keep. A fact that had helped most of the other staff members to become more comfortable. After all, if kind old Rigby could get along with her, she couldn't have been all that bad.

Jaina set her quill aside and rubbed at her face tiredly. That was something that she was going to have to deal with soon. Sylvanas had every right to know what had happened. It would crush her. She leaned back in her seat, picking a misshapen wooden rabbit, the newest addition to her growing collection. She had to admit, Sylvanas had more than grown on her. She and the elf took frequent walks around the Keep while Jaina would ramble on about her troubles. Sylvanas was a great listener, and Jaina would often talk with her long into the night.

More often then not, she found herself being escorted back to her room, usually on her own terms. Other times, Sylvanas would carry her to her rooms, going the extra measure of tucking her in. A fond smile crossed her face as she thought about the genuine concern Sylvanas showed for her health. Jaina had also found herself going out of her way to spend more and more time with the elf. They sought each other out, and Jaina was thankful for the times that Sylvanas would drag her away from her work. Jaina would lean against the sturdy form of the elf while she read and Sylvanas worked away at new carving.

The door behind her opened and Sylvanas strode into her study. That was another thing that had started. Jaina had begun to strictly enforce an open door rule. Sylvanas was to be allowed to see her at any time. “You’ve been holed up in your study all day,” Sylvanas said, grabbing the back of Jainas chair to pull her away from her desk, “you're legs are going to fall asleep again. Up you get.”

Jaina allowed herself to be pulled away from her chair and onto her feet, wincing slighting as she rubbed at her knees, “I hate it when you're right.”

“I usually am,” Sylvanas smirked.

Jaina chuckled at that, “what are you doing inside? You're usually outside tormenting the birds at this time.”

“Haha, hilarious,” Sylvanas’ ears flicked back, “it's raining outside, I wouldn't want to mold.” She offered Jaina a small smile.

“Stop that,” Jaina scolded, "I've told you before, I will not stand for that kind of humour. Not from my brother, and certainly not from you."

“Rigby would think it's funny,” Sylvanas snorted, “when is he coming back, anyway?”

Jaina sobered at that, “Sylvanas… Rigby isn't coming back,” she winced at how her voice sounded.

“Did you fire him?” Sylvanas tried to joke, even as her ears drooped, “or did he retire?”

“No, Sylvanas,” Jaina stepped forwards and gently took hold of Sylvanas’ wrists, rubbing her thumbs along the silver there, “he was sick. From what I’ve been told, very sick. He passed on a few days ago.” When the elf made to response, Jaina squeezed her wrists, “Sylvanas, did you hear me?”

“Yeah,” Sylvanas nodded, stepping back from Jaina, “yes, yes I heard you, Admiral.”

“I’m sorry,” Jaina found herself saying, “I know you two had been quite close.”

“He was kind to me,” Sylvanas agreed, turning to walk towards the door, a hand pressed tightly to her chest.

To stop her from leaving, Jaina grabbed her hand, holding it tightly, “don’t shut me out. I cant help you is you don't let me.”

Sylvanas turned, staring at Jaina through narrowed eyes. Those crimson eyes boring into Jaina before her shoulders drooped, “I… don't know how I feel about this. I know that I should be sad but… It feels… muted,” she admitted. “I’m mostly angry. That he would keep this from me, that I can't say goodbye.”

“What if you could say goodbye?” Jaina asked, her voice softening, “go to the funeral?”

A bitter laugh left Sylvanas as she snatched her hand back, “friendly as we may have become, I know you wouldn't let me leave these grounds, and even if you would, I’ve felt what happens when I try to leave.”

“I can contact the Arcanist,” Jaina offered, “together we can temporarily lift the ward from you. Allow you to go to the funeral. Gain some closure.”

Sylvanas searched her face, looking for any sign of a lie. Any game. She saw neither in the easy smile that Jaina seemed to save just for her. She nodded, “alright. Summon her.”

____________________________________________________________________

It was two days later when Thalyssra, clad in a thick fur cloak, walked through the gates of the Keep. Jaina met her with a bow of her head, “thank you for coming.”

“I’ll admit, I’m rather wary of this plan, Admiral,” Thalyssra admitted, “letting her off of the grounds goes against everything that we have agreed to.”

“I know,” Jaina sighed, “but she needs this. I don't want her to be caged up here, unable to get any closure.”

“You have a good heart,” Thalyssra offered her a smile, “well then, let's get her out of here.”

They found Sylvanas pacing restlessly in the garden. She froze when the two mages approached. “Is it time?”

“Yes,” Jaina nodded, “we will dampen the mana from the runes for long enough for a trip to Drustvar and back, but you will have to stay very close to us, lest the mana comes rushing back.” The two mages took up positions on either side of Sylvanas. With a few motions and uttered words, the silver adorning her body turned black, as if tarnished. Jaina linked her arm with Sylvanas, pulling her close while Thalyssra removed her cloak to drape it over the smaller elf, tugging the hood low over her face.

The trek from the Keep to Drustvar was long, and Sylvanas found herself sticking ever closer to Jaina with every guard they passed. She hadn't realized until now just how dangerous their plan was. Sylvanas didn't exactly blend in, to begin with. The addition of taking a stroll with the Lord Admiral did nothing to keep eyes off of their strange party.

“It's alright,” Jaina said quickly, pulling Sylvanas closer, “I promise, no one will hurt you, and you will be perfectly safe once we reach Drustvar.”

Once they reached Drustvar, Sylvanas’ posture changed. She stood straighter, her eyes glowed brighter. She felt more alive than she had since she had awoken in her cell, “what is this place?”

“Drustvar,” Jaina replied, watching her closely, “it is not a place I enjoy coming to.” A shudder ran through her and she flinched slightly when Sylvanas squeezed her arm in an effort to comfort her, “it is a land as close to the dead as you can get.”

They spoke no more as they approached the graveyard. It was a rather small gathering, mostly family, so the sight of the Lord Admiral shocked those in attendance. “Lord Admiral!” a woman in black hurried over to them, “this is quite the honour. We never would have expected to see you here.”

Jaina offered her a smile, “I owed it to my friend here,” she nudged Sylvanas who raised her hood slightly.

The woman seemed nonpulsed at the sight of the Banshee and bowed her head, “I see,” she held out her hand to Sylvanas, smiling warmly, “Nadine River,” she greeted, gripping Sylvanas’ hand tightly, passing something into her palm, “my uncle spoke of you often.”

“Did he now?” Sylvanas blinked in confusion, running her thumb over what she had been given. A small carving.

“Said that you were the first interesting thing to happen in the Keep in the whole time he worked there,” Nadine chuckled, “that includes the time our esteemed Admiral here accidentally froze the courtyard.” She laughed louder at the flush that coloured Jainas cheeks. “You're just in time. The service is about to start.”

The funeral was vastly different than those in her homeland. While there were tears, it was more of a group remembrance. It was beautiful, and Sylvanas found herself feeling lighter as the casket was lowered. But that lightness was quickly replaced by a sense of dread as she looked towards Jaina. The lines beginning to makes themselves known on her face, the weariness that seemed to always weigh on the other woman. She clenched the carving tightly in her hand and pulled at Jainas arm, “take me back,” she straightened as the first few drops of rain began to fall. She left no room argument and the three swiftly left.

The mana flooded back into the wards as soon as they passed over the threshold and Sylvanas stumbled forward, only managing not to hit the cobbles by Jainas arms holding her up. “Thank you,” she shrugged off her hands and stormed off into the Keep.

Jaina watched her leave in utter confusion. As the rain began to fall harder she made to run after her, only then remembering that Thalyssra was still there. “I’m sorry but--”

“Go on,” Thalyssra smiled, “I’ll wait inside.”

With a nod of thanks, Jaina took off running. She knew where Sylvanas would go, but getting there seemed to take ages. She slipped in the mud as she finally came to the center of the maze. “Sylvanas?” The elf was standing by the fountain, staring up at the clouds.

“I had forgotten,” Sylvanas started, “just how fragile you humans are. I rarely had many interactions with your kind and none that allowed me to see how quickly time flew for you all. Even Nathanos wasn't with me long enough for me to see.” She fell silent, her fingers working over the carving she had been given. A little bird skull. “What will happen to me if you die, Admiral? The only one left who can actually stand to be around me without the fear of me attacking them? The one who binds me?”

When she looked at Jaina, there was sadness in those crimson eyes, and something else. Something that Jaina wasn't even sure was possible. “That's not something you need to worry about. My magic will keep me around for a long time yet.”

“And if that fails you?”

“Sylvanas, I’m not going anywhere. I won't leave you alone,” Jaina said, moving closer, “I promise you.”

They were so close now, close enough that Sylvanas could feel the warm breath upon her cheek, “you should. You should just leave me out here to mold.”

“And have to deal with you complaining about it?” Jaina smiled, “I don't think so.”

“You're a fool,” Sylvanas sighed, ears twitching when Jaina took her hand. Sylvanas tilted her head, watching Jaina closely. She wasn't sure why she did it, but Sylvanas closed the distance between them with a soft brush of lips.

Jaina wasn't really sure what she had been expecting. It certainly wasn't a kiss. It wasn't seeing Sylvanas step back looking more distraught than Jaina had ever seen her, blazing eyes wide with shock. Still, Jaina found herself marveling at how those lips had left. Not icy. Cool, yes, but not grave cold. She didn't let Sylvanas step too far away, moving closer to return the gesture. Chaste, by all meanings, but it thrilled her nonetheless. The way that Sylvanas relaxed against her, wrapping her arms around Jaina.

“You’ll catch your own death out here in this rain, Admiral,” Sylvanas said, finally stepping back.

“Jaina, you can call me Jaina.”

Neither of them saw the dull feathered raven that watched them with glassy eyes from its perch atop the hedge.

____________________________________________________________________

Genn Wandered the streets of Dalaran, his arms folded behind his back. He often found himself here, now. Always dwelling on how the Alliance had managed to allow justice to slip from their grasp. How even now they grew complacent to the idea of peace. As if there could ever be any true peace when the Banshee still lived. And to make things worse, Jaina, her jailer, had softened to her. Nothing good could come on this.

He was so wrapped up in his own thoughts, that he failed to notice the shadow that crept towards him until it was too late. A knife was held to his throat, pressing closer when he made to grab his sword. “Now, now. There is no need for such violence. I only wish to talk,” his assailant said from behind him.

“Blightcaller,” Genn snarled. Still, there was little he could do. Even if he shifted, Nathanos had him at a disadvantage. As soon as they were tucked into an alley, the knife was gone and Genn whirled around to face the undead man, “what do you want?”

“The same thing that you want,” Nathanos said simply. “My queen is trapped in her own mind, I want her back. And though it is for different reasons, I know that you do as well. So, much as it pains me, I am here to propose a partnership.”

“I want that bitch dead, why would you seek my help,” Genn asked, keeping his hand tightly on the hilt of his sword.

Nathanos stiffened but otherwise kept his composure, “my attempts to get to her have been nothing but failures. But you have access to a way in that I don't.”

“I am barred from the whole city, how could I possibly have a way in.”

“Oh, you will not be the one getting in. Simply arranging passage for the one who will,” Nathanos smiled, “once she remembers, our partnership is up and we will have a race to see which of us gets what we want. Her reign, or her head.”

Genn relaxed, humming in thought. “Very well, Blightcaller. What do you need?”

Nathanos grinned, leaning closer, “not a what, a who. We need a Sentinel, and I know just the one.”

 


	10. Riot

“Times running out, Sylvanas.”

Sylvanas opened her eyes, squinting into the darkness. She was laying in Jainas bed, but the human was nowhere to be seen. “Jaina?” Her voice echoed as she stumbled from the bed. She felt heavy as she made her way towards the door, leaning heavily against the frame. “Jaina!” she tried again.

“Now you be wasting it.”

“That voice,” Sylvanas ran, ducking through the hallways and out into the gardens to weave her way through the maze.

Sitting comfortably on the edge of the fountain, was a troll. He smiled when he saw her, “well now, look at you. Good to see you looking like a general.” He laughed when Sylvanas reached for her bow, “don't remember me? That be alright. You don't have to.” The troll motioned her towards the fountain, “you been doing well with your second chance, Sylvanas. But I been keeping an eye on the world,” he ran a hand through his shock of red hair, “da Queen of da Deep be plannin somethin. Though what, ah that I cannot see. She been gatherin her armies sendin them to pray on ships. And she ben callin out. They both have been.”

Sylvanas’ ears pinned back and she bared her fangs, “make sense, Troll! Who has been calling out? What are you rattling on about?”

“War be comin, and every war needs a general. I told you once before, Azeroth be needin you, Sylvanas. I just hope that it be ready to accept that.”

   ____________________________________________________________________

Sylvanas’ eyes snapped open to be greeted by the pale light of the sun just beginning to rise. She was sitting up against the headboard of Jainas bed, the Lord Admiral tucked up against her side. Her ears flicked, trying to detect the sound of the troll, but he was gone. Or had never been there. She rubbed a hand over her face as she tried to think, the other pulling Jaina closer.

“You okay?” Jaina mumbled, cracking her eyes open.

“I’m fine,” Sylvanas replied quickly. Too quickly, it seemed, as Jaina pulled herself up to sit next to Sylvanas. “Really, Jaina,” Sylvanas said, trying, and failing, to tame the humans sleep mussed hair, “I’m fine. I just…”

Jaina was more awake now as she tried to catch the elf's gaze, “did you remember something?”

“No,” Sylvanas shook her head, “no, at least, I don't think I did. It didn't seem like a memory. More like a dream.”

“A dream?” Jaina repeated, “but you don't sleep, how could you have had a dream?”

Sylvanas shook her head. She grit her teeth as she climbed out of bed, “I don't know. It didn't make any sense. I was here, in the Keep. and there was a troll.”

“A troll?”

“Yes, he seemed to know me,” Sylvanas furrowed her brow, “he didn't make any sense. He said he had given me a second chance, but time was running out.” She paced circled around the room, her ears pinned back, “something is coming. The Queen of--”

“Lord Admiral!” a pounding on the door interrupted her.

Tugging on a robe, Jaina opened the door to face a rather frightened guard, “what is it?”

“Forsaken, at the gate,” The guard panted, “came rushing through the Theramore portal, ma’am said that he needed to see you and that it was urgent.”

Jaina looked back at Sylvanas, worry etched on her face. A Forsaken being in the Keep could be disastrous should they see Sylvanas. But she also knew that asking the elf to stay away would be pointless. She would simply follow along regardless. “Take me to them,” she demanded, as she began down the hall, Sylvanas close behind. 

The Forsaken messenger had been taken to Jainas study. He had the same violet eyes that the rest of the Theramore undead had begun to gain, and Jaina could see threads of mana in the gaps of his flesh, holding his joints together. When he noticed them, he struggles to his feet, wavering slightly on a broken leg. “Lady Proudmoore,” he bowed. His eyes went wide when he saw Sylvanas. He took a step forward, words of praise forming on his lips but he froze when Jaina flared at him. “Lady Windrunner,” he said hastily before thumping a fist to his chest, “Derrill Jett. I bring dire news from Theramore. Naga have begun swarming the island off the coast. They are launching their assault from there to take the docks.”

“Naga?” Jaina grit her teeth, “how many?”

“Hundreds. They brought the bugs ones too. Miss Voss has called every available fighter to the defense but…”

“Damn it,” Jaina spun to face the guard, “rally all available forces and put out a call-to-arms to any champions currently in the city. They are to head to portal to Theramore post-haste and are to report directly to Lillian Voss.” Jaina didn’t wait around for the guard to acknowledge her orders before she rushed back towards her room. 

The door had hardly closed before Jaina was pulling off her nightclothes to get dressed in her battle regalia. It felt strange, pulling in armor again after so many months of peace. Of scattered meetings in simple robes and lazy nights spent in the company of Sylvanas. 

“You’re going to fight, aren’t you,” it wasn’t a question, even without seeing the armor, Sylvanas knew that Jaina was going. “I should be going with you. I can help. I may be a bit rusty but with a bow, in my hand, I could make a difference.”

“I know you could, Sylvanas,” Jaina sighed. She stepped closer to cup the elf’s cheek with her ungauntleted hand, “I know just how good you are with a bow, and I can see how much you want to help. But there are only so many rules I can bend and break for you before I am deemed unfit to keep you here.” She drew their foreheads together, “and hard as it is to believe, I want to keep you here. And I do,” Jaina placed a kiss against the corner of Sylvanas’ mouth as she summoned her staff to her hand, “I’ll be back soon.”

Jaina left her standing there, willing herself to ignore the droop of the elf's ears. It was just a Naga incursion, nothing that she couldn't handle. When she got to the portal, Jaina was pleased to note that the champions she had called were already rushing through and passed through herself.

What greeted her was not simply hundreds of Naga. It was much, much more. Chaos surrounded her as she watched as priests tried to herd civilians towards the manor. They were vastly outnumbered as the Naga invaded the city from the docks. The space was far too tight for much of her magic, but she could still rely on her single shot spells. She fell into the fray, firing off lances of ice with deadly accuracy all around her, Naga fall as she advances towards the docks where the Brutes were beginning to come ashore.

A Forsaken woman lost her footing and fell to the ground. The Naga that had been chasing her raised his trident to send her on to her true death. Jaina leaped to deflect the blow her staff. “Go!” she ground out, her arms trembling with the effort of keeping the Naga at bay. When the trident was pulled away, Jaina stumbled forward with a gasp. All too quickly, the trident was coming towards her. With no time to block, Jaina braced herself for the pain of the wound.

Only no pain came. The Naga let out a cry as it thrashed backward, an arrow jutting from his eye. Jaina Spun around, expecting one of the Dark Rangers, only to see Vereesa and Alleria charging through a Void portal. “You mages never seem to understand the meaning of ranged attack,” Alleria scoffed, firing another volley of arrows towards the approaching Naga while Vereesa pulled Jaina back to them.

“I was lost in the moment,” Jaina shrugged, taking up her stance, “we need to cut off their access, cut them off at the docks so we can push them back into the sea.”

“You say that like it’s the easiest thing,” Vereesa rolled her eyes, knocking an arrow.

“It’ll be like old times,” Jaina said, jutting her staff towards the Naga that had been charging them, effectively turning it into a flopping trout. “Let’s move!”

Together they were a whirlwind of death. The deadly accuracy of the old rangers, couped with the frigid power that was Jainas domain was truly a sight to be feared. But it wouldn’t be enough. Jaina knew this just as well as her Elven companions. But Jaina could already see that their combined might would not be enough to fully turn the tide. And the closer they got to the docks, the more non-combatants Jaina could see. She grit her teeth, “Alleria, I need you to clear out the rest of the civilians. Your portals are more reliable than my blinks. Vereesa, take to the roofs. Aid the Dark Rangers with cover fire.”

While they both looked like they wanted to object, for different reasons she was sure, they did as they were told, leaving Jaina alone once more. 

Jaina was a storm. Blinking around the marketplace, pulling merchants to safety too then quickly spin on her heel and riddle Naga with lances of ice. But this close to the front, Jaina could see that her efforts were having little to no effect. For everyone she struck down, another two surfaced to bolster their ranks. The docks were lost and Jaina realized too late that she stood along amidst the masses.

She couldn't blame the Forsaken for falling back. They had to be scared, knowing that the woman with the power to have them returned, to order the Valkyr was gone. Still, it was daunting and Jaina lapsed into a defensive stance as she tried in vain to follow their retreat. She only just managed to dodge a trident aimed at her chest, a tine carving a gouge into her pauldron. 

Sweat beaded on her forehead as she wrapped herself in a shield of ice. She slid down to the ground, gasping for breath as the Naga pounded away at the shield. It wouldn't hold, she knew that, but she had to hope that it would give her enough time to regain her strength. How many times had she been here on the shores of Theramore, fighting a losing battle? Even one would have been to many.

“How many indeed,” an enchanting voice echoed around her shield, startling her, “I have watched to struggle for so long, Daughter of the Sea. You are so strong, yet you constantly hold yourself back. You could end them all with hardly a thought. All you have to do is let go. Let loose the fires of hatred that burn in you.” 

The voice was like a gentle caress upon the mind of the mage. It was so enticing. It would be easy to comply, to let loose her full might, destroy the Naga and Forsaken alike. “No,” Jaina grit out, struggling back to her feet, “that is NOT who I am! Not anymore!” She tapped her staff on the ground, shattering the shield outwards, impaling the Naga around her with shards of ice.

A horn sounded behind her and Jaina spun around, a relieved smile spread across her face. She knew the sound of that warhorn all too well, “Baine.” She could have sobbed with relief as reinforcements that she couldn't have hoped to have had flooded through the gates. Instead, she sobbed for a different reason as a sharp pain lanced through her side. Jaina stumbled forward, steadying herself with her staff as her free hand shot down to her side. 

An arrow. She had been shot. She turned in an unsteady circle, trying to spot her attacker, but all she saw were Naga being forced back into the sea by trolls and tauren. But then, amidst the chaos, a man stood calmly lowering his bow, a self-satisfied smirk cutting across his pale face. “Blightcaller,” Jainas vision narrowed as she struggled towards him. A troll blocked him from view, just for a moment, but it was all Nathanos needed to vanish once more.

The battle was over quickly after that. The Naga were no match for the Horde defenders that had stormed into the city and what few remained quickly retreated back into the sea. Cheers went up, victory cries were screamed, and Jaina watched on in a daze. The appearance of Nathanos could not have been a coincidence, nor could the fact that she was still alive. He was up to something, but what, Jaina couldn't be sure of.

What she was sure of, was the sudden wave of dizziness that took hold of her and the fact that she would have become well reacquainted with Theramore's cobbled streets if it hadn't have been for Alleria catching her.

“Shit,” Alleria grunted, shifting Jainas weight so that she could support her easier, “Vereesa!” The eldest Windrunner half-dragged Jaina back towards the city center, and the stabilized portal it held.

Jainas eyes widened, “the portal!” she groaned, shoving herself away from Alleria, only to stumble into Vereesa's arms, “they were after the portal.”

Vereesa's ears pinned back as she tried to keep Jaina still, “why? Jaina why would they be after the portal? If the Naga wanted to invade Boralus, it's right on the ocean.” She grit her teeth as Jaina struggled more, “Jaina stop it! You are hurt!” When Jaina still wouldn't be still she snapped, “for fuck's sake, Jaina! You have been shot! Be still!”

That finally seemed to do the trick and Jaina leaned heavily against the shorter woman, “not Boralus. The portal is right outside the keep. Beyond the harbor defense. The only thing they could possibly want in the heart of Kul Tiras is--”

“Sylvanas,” Alleria finished for her, “they were trying to get to Sylvanas.”

“I have to get back,” Jaina urged, “I have to make sure that none of them made. That she's alright.” 

Alleria exchanged a look with Vereesa, their ears moving in ways that Jaina would never have been able to interpret, before she took her place on Jainas other side, “okay. Okay, Jaina we’ll take you to her and then you have to get that arrow taken care of.”

Upon stepping out of the portal to Boralus, the trio was greeted with raised rifles. Jaina let out a sigh of exasperation. She was getting tired of this. “Stand down,” she snapped, stepping away from Alleria with the aid of her staff. To her credit, she only swayed a little. She must have looked worse than she felt if the guard's faces were anything to go by. 

“Lord Admiral!” The captain took a cautious step towards her. He gasped when he saw the blood that stained the side of her robes. “A healer for the Admiral!”

Jaina waited for the runner to hurry off before speaking again, “where is Sylvanas?”

The captain frowned, “the Banshee? Last I checked she was pacing the hallway near your study. Seemed rather agitated so I ordered all guards to avoid the hallway.”

“Take me to her. Now.”

Sylvanas was still pacing when they finally found her. Eyes narrowed, ears pinned back. She was muttering to herself in Thalassian as she all but wore a groove into the carpet. Her ears shot up when she saw Jaina and she rushed to her side. She saw the way the younger woman swayed and held her arms out to catch her. “Belore! Jaina what happened?”

“Turns our arrows are hard to dodge,” Jaina joked lamely as Sylvanas took her shoulders to look her over, worry clear in those crimson eyes. “I’ll be fine, Sylvanas. I’ve had worse.”

“That doesn't make this okay,” Sylvanas sighed, carefully wrapping her arms around Jaina. Her eyes landed on her sisters and she held Jaina closer, possessively, “has a healer been called?”

“Soon as we arrived,” Vereesa answered, shifting uncomfortably, “they should be here soon.”

Sylvanas nodded stiffly, supporting more of Jainas weight. She only released her when Katherine and a guard came to take Jaina to her room to meet with the healer. As much as Sylvanas longed to go with her, she could not stand to be in the same vicinity as the Light. And priests with their healing?

She felt useless. A feeling that only ever led to anger these days. She grit her teeth and stalked off towards her room, well aware of the fact that her sisters were following. Leaving the door open, Sylvanas settled at her little desk, pulling her hair up into a topknot to keep it out of her face as she whittled away at her latest carving. 

“Jaina gave you a knife?” Alleria asked, sounding shocked as she stepped into the room. 

“She did,” Sylvanas grunted, holding the blade up for her sister to inspect, “heavily enchanted to make it about as dangerous as a toy sword. Though, I suppose it could poke an eye out.” She laughed at the look of horror that crossed her sisters face before getting back to work, “not that I would do anything to risk getting this taken away from me. This is about the most calming thing I am allowed to do”

“You… carve wood?” Alleria picked up one of the older carvings, turning it slowly in her hands, “I never would have guessed that you would have a talent for this.”

“Why? Because you remember me as a murderous beast?” Sylvanas bit out. Though her sisters had taken to visiting her regularly, things were still quite tense between them. There was always an air of them both waiting for her to slip up. For the curtain to be pulled away to reveal that she wasn’t their sister at all. 

Alleria leaned over Sylvanas’ shoulder, a toothy grin spreading across her face, “no. Because the sister I remember had all the patients of hawkstrider waiting for a treat.” She laughed as she dodged the fist half-heartedly aimed to cuff her ear. 

“So,” Vereesa piped up from where she had sat down on Sylvanas’ bed, “you and Jaina?”

“What about me and Jaina?” Sylvanas’ ears flicked in irritation. 

“Isn’t it, a bit dangerous? For the two of you?” Vereesa pressed, “she is supposed to be your jailer. And if she has grown too close to you? Even fallen for you? It could be disastrous for both of you.”

“I know,” Sylvanas growled. She set her knife aside and tugged slightly at one of her ears, the movement caused the wooden skull earring she now wore to bounce. “I know,” she tried again, “I am painfully aware of how dangerous this is… but Jaina, Jaina is by far the best thing to happen to me in a long time. And I’m sure that that is true for both ‘me’s’.”

Before any of them could say anymore, a knock sounded against the doorframe. “The Admirals been asking for you, Sylvanas,” Nadia said with a slight smile, “and she asked me to tell your sisters here that they are free to help themselves to anything in the kitchens, and to stay the night if they so choose.”

Sylvanas stood quickly, “she’s all right then?” A nod from Nadia, “take me to her.” She made it to the door before looking back to her sisters, “we shall catch up more later, yes?” Sylvanas didn’t give them a chance to reply. If they didn’t come looking for her, she would go looking for them. As they walked, she turned to Nadia, “what are you doing in the Keep?”

“The guards called for a healer,” Nadia said as they came to Jainas door, “and I answered.” She laughed as Sylvanas took a step away from her, “I know what you’re thinking, but there are more healing magics than just that of the Light.” She patted Sylvanas on the shoulder, “make sure she stays in bed.”

When Sylvanas slipped into the room, it was to see Jaina sat up in bed, dressed in nothing more than a thin shift and looking wearier than Sylvanas had ever seen her. The longer she looked, the more little scars she could pick out against the humans pale skin. “Are any of those from me?” She asked, letting out a surprised grunt when Jaina pulled her down onto the bed. 

Jaina shifted so that Sylvanas could lay against her side, her skin blissfully cool. She hummed in thought before shaking her head, “no, you and eye have never gone head-to-head so none of these are yours. I promise.”

“Thank Belore for small blessings,” Sylvanas sighed, pressing a soft kiss to Jainas lips. “Little Moon thinks that we are being dangerous. Being this close to each other.”

“My job is to keep an eye on you,” Jaina said, mischief flashing in her eyes, “and the way I see it, this is the easiest way to do that. The fact that I enjoy your company? Your kisses? The way you hold me? Well, those are just bonuses. Rewards for doing my job so well.”

Sylvanas couldn’t help herself, she threw her head back and laughed. “What a strange little mage you are.”

“Yes, I suppose I am,” Jaina agreed, snuggling closer to Sylvanas as her eyelids grew heavy, “but you wouldn’t change me for the world.”

“No, no I wouldn’t.” Once Jaina had fallen asleep, Sylvanas looked towards the desk. Even in the dark, her eyes could make out the arrow that lay there. An arrow that she remembered well. Anger flared within her and it took all she had to press it down. 

Friend or not, there would be no forgiveness for the man who had attempted to take Jaina away from her. None at all. 


	11. Jail Break

Sylvanas hated the times that she was away from Jaina, and this time was no different. The Keeps guards had finally realized that she wasn’t going to attack them and largely ignored her. They even went so far as to avert their eyes when she was with Jaina to give them a midi run of privacy. There were scarcely any secrets in the Keep. They all knew what was between them, they just chose to ignore it now. 

This didn’t make Jainas absence any easier to bear. Especially not when she knew that her once trusted comrade and friend had made an attempt on Jainas life. Were she alive, her anger would have made her blood boil. 

The silver warmed against her skin in warning. Sylvanas dragged in a useless breath to try and force herself to be calm. Jaina was a powerful mage, and she would be surrounded by other leaders while they spoke of what to do after the Naga attack. She would be safe. She would come back. Sylvanas had to believe that.

Still, that left Sylvanas with nothing but time alone. She had long since run out of books in the library, going to far as to read through old tomes on magic that she couldn't understand half of. Her carving could only keep her occupied for so long with no one around to talk to and she was to have no visitors until Jaina returned in the morning. 

It had already been three and Sylvanas was feeling the strain. Three whole days of not listening to Jaina rattle on about this theory or that hypothesis. Of not being able to feel her warmth, hear the soft sounds of her breath. She missed the mage more than she would have ever thought that she ever would.

Jaina also helped to keep her mind busy. Often, Sylvanas would find her mind drifting back to long-off memories. These memories were far-ranging from sunfilled days at the Spire to the dark bloody days of wars. Jaina helped to pull Sylvanas out of these memories, but without her, Sylvanas tended to wallow in them.

Now, Sylvanas found herself pacing the back of the training yard, watching the guards train in archery, a skill many of them had become increasingly interested in with the influx of elves visiting the keep. A movement to her left drew her attention sharply. An elf was standing near a door to the Keep, her face hidden beneath her hood. Her ears flicked back before she slipped inside.

With a quick glance at the training guards, Sylvanas hurried after the mystery elf. She followed her deep into the Keep. They went down a disused stairwell and into the old dungeon. Sylvanas had never been down here. Partly because Jaina had sealed up most of the entrances, and because the one time she had tried to explore it, a deep feeling of dread had settled over her. 

She felt it now but did her best to ignore it as she stalked her way among the cells. Whoever the elf was, she was good at hiding. Too good. Sylvanas stood still and closed her eyes. Her ears moved continuously as she tried to detect where the other elf had gone. A subtle scrape of a boot on stone. Arrows clinking light against each other. The strain of a bowstring. 

Sylvanas twisted her body to the side just in time to dodge the arrow that had been aimed for her. “I thought you were a little tall to be one of mine,” Sylvanas said as she spun around. The elf of standing at the other end of the hall, bow at the ready, rage in her light red eyes. “Tell me, did the High Priestess send you, Kaldorei?”

The elf bared her fangs, “the High Priestess cares for nothing but bringing us back into the fold. We cannot go back, and now you claim to not know me?” She spat, readying another arrow, “I have thought of nothing but this moment since I was taken back to Darkshore. And now I come face to face with you, the one who slew me, who forced me to watch my home burn, to find that you don’t remember me?”

“That seems to be a common theme,” Sylvanas slipped into a more defensive stance, “and I do t suppose apologizing wouldn’t make you any less angry.”

“No,” the elf agreed, “but there is something you can do.” She fired her second arrow on her last word, a third and forth quickly following, forcing Sylvanas to dodge back. “I have to remember everything that I went through while getting passed around like an unwanted saberkitten,” another arrow, “while you get to live here in comfortable ignorance. You get everything while I get nothing!” She tossed her bow away in favor of a dagger as she rushed Sylvanas, “Abandoned by everyone! Elune. The High Priestess. The Alliance. Even you abandoned me! So you will do one thing for me before you die. Say my name!”

The knife proved far more difficult to dodge than the arrows. It was only thanks to the silver that Sylvanas was spared being properly wounded, “I am sorry for the wrongs that I have committed against you, but this is a fight that you will not win! I don't remember you!” She let out a sharp cry as she was slammed against the wall. Pinned there by the taller elf, Sylvanas could do nothing as the dagger drawn against the burns beneath her eye.

“I will,” The elf whispered. “I have had nothing but time to think about what I would do when I finally faced you. What I would say. But know I know. I know that you were wrong. You cannot win a war against life when you cling to it so desperately as you do. Even know, ignorant as you are, you cling. You may not remember, but I do. Do you know what I remember, Banshee?” She leaned closer, removing the knife from Sylvanas’ face, “I remember… a fool.”

Sylvanas seemed to find her strength then, roughly shoving the elf away. She stumbled a few steps before leaning heavily against the wall. She drew in a ragged, useless, breath before looking to the elf, her eyes burning, “a fool?” she rasped out, “Is that what you think I am, Summermoon?” she pushed away from the wall and laughed, “I was safe within these walls, and you think me a fool?”

“You're back,” Delaryn breathed.

“Where has all of that ferocity gone now?” Sylvanas asked stepping back to Delaryn, “just a moment ago you were ready to kill me, were you not?”

“I,” Delaryn looked to the dagger in her hand before tossing it to the ground, “I was lost. I meant what I said. And he said that this was the only--”

“Who? Who told you to come here and drag me back?”

“Nathanos.”

Before she could even begin to scream, the runes activated, sending Sylvanas to her knees. “That bastard,” she gasped, “That traitorous bastard!” Sylvanas slammed her fist into the floor several times before she settled once more, “it would seem, that I am going to need a new Champion.” She raised her gaze to meet Delaryns and nodded once, “find Blightcaller and keep tabs on everything he does. Keep me updated. Go.”

Sylvanas waited until the sound of footsteps had completely faded before pressing her forehead against the cold stone. Her mind was a jumble of thoughts and memories. Her death. Her struggles. Her crimes. Her moments with Jaina.

Jaina.

She was surprised to find that the thought of the mage still warmed her. Still brought a smile to her face. A smile that quickly faltered. Jaina was going to drag her back to Dalaran to stand trial. She was dutybound to do so as soon as she found out that the Banshee had returned to full consciousness, But only if she found out. 

Yes. It was a good plan. Her only plan. Sylvanas had been living here for months now. Surely, she could fake her way through a few more weeks?

   ____________________________________________________________________

Sylvanas had never been more wrong in her life. She couldnt keep up the act. It hurt to much, lying to Jaina. That was something new. Something she never would have cared about before. But having to keep lying to Jaina had been tearing her apart. Maybe that was what brough her to wait for Jaina in her study. To stare listlessly out the windows at the approuching stormclouds.

Her ears twitched when the door opened. Jainas steps echoing on the smooth wood floor. “My mother always told me to be wary of the calm before the storm. I’ve lived through many storms. Enough of them to know what that calm feels like. Enough to know that one has been brewing since you returned.”

“Sylvanas, what are you talking about?”

“There was a calm about the forests of Quel’thalas,” Sylvanas pointedly ignored her, standing stiffer, “when he finally came to hunt me down. To torture me like an animal. To warp and twist me. There was a calm while I waited for my messengers to return to the Undercity. When I joined Horde and before every battle since.”

“You remembered,” it wasn't a hostile statement. Nor an accusatory one. Jaina’s voice was flat as she carefully closed the door. She wove complex dampening spelled around the room before coming to stand just an arm's length from Sylvanas, “how much?”

“Everything,” Sylvanas’ ears drooped, “do what you will. I won't fight you. I'm tired, Jaina.” She flinched when Jaina wrapped her arms around her, pulling her back to Jaina’s chest, “what are doing?”

“Holding you,” Jaina shrugged, “I know that you find it comforting.”

“The general found it comforting. I am the Banshee Queen! Enemy of Azeroth!”

“If that were true, you wouldn't still be standing here,” Jaina said simply, “you would be plotting and scheming my death for your escape and you wouldn't have played it safe this long. You’re both now, I can feel it. And I won't give up the woman I love.”

Sylvanas pulled herself away from Jaina then, pacing around the room. “Did you not hear me? How can you possibly say that you love me?”

“You said yourself, you remember everything,” Jaina closed the distance again, “that would include me. Us. Your memories are back, yes, but that doesn't mean that you have to lose now. I have seen you as both General and Queen and I have seen that they aren't so different. So I can say it just like that. I love you, Sylvanas, in all your forms and we are going to make this work.”

It was Sylvanas’ turn to pull Jaina into her arms. To bury her face into the crook of Jainas neck, “this is dangerous. I’m dangerous.”

Jaina chuckled, holding the Banshee close, “that fact that you are still worrying over me proves my point. You've changed for the better.”

“The others won't see it that way,” Sylvanas huffed.

“The others don't have to know,” Jaina placed a soft kiss to the top of Sylvanas’ head, “I placed you under my protection, and I will not break my word. I will protect you. No matter what.”

It was a sweet and heartfelt sentiment. But Sylvanas couldn't help but wonder, who was going to protect Jaina?

 


	12. Arrest

“I still don’t understand why we have to bring the First Arcanist in on this,” Sylvanas grumbled as she pulled on a fresh tunic. It had been a week since she had confessed to Jaina and much to the Banshees surprise, nothing had changed between them. Jaina never shied away from her touch or greeted her with cold eyes. She didn’t want anything to jeopardize what she now had. 

“Thalyssra—“

“It’s  _ just _ Thalyssra now?” Sylvanas interrupted. 

Jaina rolled her eyes, flicking one of her long ears, “don’t be jealous. She is a good friend with a brilliant mind. A good friend whose magic is part of the reason that you have been allowed to live so long,” Jaina explained, “she has every right to know, and she may be able to help us find out why the Naga want you dead. Besides, as far as the other races go, the Shaldorei are far more neutral than anyone else.” She could only laugh at the withering glare that Sylvanas shot her way. “Of come on, surely you knew that they only joined your Horde because it suited them at the time.”

“And they still chose to stand by me after the fracturing,” Sylvanas huffed.

Jaina smiled softly, tucking a strand of hair behind Sylvanas’ ear before cupping her cheek, “all the more reason to trust her. She must have seen something in you worth standing by?” A knock sounded at the door and Jaina moved to answer it.

“Lord Admiral,” the servant bowed his hand, “the First Arcanist of Suramar is awaiting your audience in the library.”

“Tell her that we shall join her shortly,” Jaina replied, closing the door to finish dressing. Lacing up her simple blouse, Jaina turned to Sylvanas once more, “come along, best not keep our friend waiting.”

When they stepped into the library, they found Thalyssra trailing her finger along the spins of the countless books, a faint smile on her face. She pulled her thick fur cloak tighter around herself as she turned the glow of her eyes to Jaina, “you have quite the impressive collection. I must admit, I am a bit insulted that you have yet to show it to me.”

“My parents had their work cut out for them keeping me entertained when I was a child,” Jaina chuckled. She closed the door, locking it first with the latch and then again with magic before working to cast dampening spells upon the room.

Thalyssra frowned slightly, “I take it that this is not a personal visit.”

“No,” it was Sylvanas who spoke, tilting her chin up. Her ears flicked back, betraying the slight fear that had settled in her, “I regret that my Rangers and I had no part in the freeing of your city. But your people were the allies that I embraced that fullest.”

“Ah, I see,” Thalyssra’s ears slowly angled back. She looked to Jaina, watching her nod and move closer to Sylvanas, “so I am to be pulled into another spot of subterfuge?” A smile twitched in her lips, a fang poking out just slightly, “you younger races are not very good at keeping secrets, so I suppose that I will have to do my part to help you keep it.” Thalyssra crossed the room and settled in a chair that she was much too tall for, yet still she managed to look graceful, “so, why am I being included?”

“You helped bind her,” Jaina said, sitting down, “and we need your help. The Naga want Sylvanas dead, for some reason or another and I have not been able to discern why.”

“The Naga?” Thalyssras ears shot up, “if the Naga are trying to take her life, it is not for the sake of their own desires, but for their queen, Azshara.” she leaned forward, clasping her hands, “I will do what I can to help you, but I make no promises. For now, perhaps we should speak of how we will go about keeping this little secret of ours. I take it that it is only we three?”

Sylvanas shook her head as she sat down, lifting her arm she that Jaina could settle in against her side as she so enjoyed, “the one who dredged them back also knows. Summermoon. I may have killed her in during the initial Darkshore assault.” She winced when Jaina pinched her side, “all right, I did. Nathanos ordered her revived and she was sent here.”

Jaina frowned, “That can’t be right. All the risen Nightelves were sent back to Dark Shore. There is no way that he could have got to her.”

“No way at all?” Thalyssra asked, “what if someone were to take her for him?”

Jaina shook her head, “I’m positive that no one would willingly side with Blightcaller. This doesn't make any sense. Especially when I can only think of three people who could possibly benefit Sylvanas regaining her memory.” She huffed a sigh, “Blightcaller, Tyrande and —“

“Lord Admiral!” A servant pounded on the door, “Lord Greymane has just made landfall in the harbor! He brought a host of soldiers with him!”

Jaina leapt to her feet, undoing the locks with a wave of her hand before running towards the main gate, Sylvanas and Thalyssra close at her heels. When they reached the gate, it was to find that Greymane had brought more than soldiers along with him. Anduin, Baine, Tyrande, and Thrall. Jaina eyes them all critically, “what is the meaning of this?”

“The High King and the Warchief have received reports that you have been far too lax in your keeping of the Banshee,” Genn said, clasping his hands behind his back, “and thus it has been decided that the Banshee will be passed into the joint custody of Highpriestess Whisperwind and myself.”

“What?!” Jaina turned her furious gaze to the young king, “Anduin how could you possibly sign off on this?!”

Anduin shook his head, “what choice do I have, Jaina? With the Reports Valeera has been handing in, it's hard to argue with them.”

“Valeera… you’ve been spying on me?”

“I was worried!” Anduin sounded desperate, “you are the only family I have left, and then I hear that you could have died too? I had her posted outside the Keep to make sure that no one else made any attempts on your life. And the things that she has reported…”

At this, Genn sneered, “That brings us to the next matter of business,” he pulled a heavy pair of magic dampening shackles from inside of his coat, “Jaina Proudmoore, Lors Admiral of Kul Tiras, by order and authority of King Anduin Wrynn of the Alliance, I hereby place you under arrest.”

“You have no authority in Kul Tiras,” Katherine snapped as she finally came to join them.

“As I just said, Katherine, by order of the Alliance, of which you and you people are a part of. That puts you under Alliance law.”

“What are the charges?” She asked, standing protectively beside her daughter. 

“Treason,” Anduin said quietly. There was deep sorrow in his eyes when he looked back to Jaina, “you broke your word. Genn, take her.”

“No!” Sylvanas rushed forward to stop him, only to be grappled to the ground by one of the Worgen soldiers. She thrashed wildly in a desperate attempt to break free. “Don’t you dare touch her Greymane! I swear I will finish what I started if you harm one hair on her head!”

“Ah, and there is your proof,” Genn sneered, clamping the shackles onto a shocked Jaina, “the bitch remembers and the Admiral thought to keep it from us. And for what? Why protect her? She who would have destroyed the world?”

“Shes changed!” Jaina protested, even as she was shoved towards the Alliance soldiers, “Anduin you have to listen to me! If you go through with this than the Naga get whatever it is that they want! You have to at least let me continue to investigate this before the trial!”

“There will not be a trial, Jaina,” Thrall spoke quietly, “she is in Greymanes hands now. Her fate is sealed.”

“No,” Jaina breathed even as she was dragged away, the soldier wearing a vicious grin, “Thalyssra! You mustn't let this happen!” While she was taken away, another guard escorted a furious Katherine back into the Keep.

“So, First Arcanist,” Tyrande spoke now, “did you know of this as well?”

“I did not,” Thalyssra lied smoothly, “the Lord Admiral called me here to discuss her theories from the recent Naga attack. She believes that they were after the Banshee Queen. That  _ She  _ was after the Banshee Queens life.”

Tyrande bared her fangs and looked down to where Sylvanas had finally stopped struggling, “that complicates things. As much as I would love to see her head on a spike, I would rather deny  _ her  _ what it is she wants.”

“So we are agreed then?”

“We are.”

“Wrong,” Genn snarled, a madness seeming to take her. He motioned to the mages he had brought with him, “get this damn ward down. I want a thorough search of the Keep down after the pyre.”

“The pyre?” Sylvanas asked, fear creeping in over her rage.

“Yes, I have every intention of ensuring that you stay dead, Banshee. Restrain her!” Genn drew his sword slowly as Sylvanas was forced to her knees her neck exposed. As the wards fell, Genn raised his sword. 

Sylvanas turned her eyes to see the hazy visage of Vol’jin crouched next to her. “Times up. They are coming.”

Just as the sword was about to be swung, an explosion sounded from the harbor. “What was that!?”

“Naga! Naga in the harbor!”

Chaos exploded in the courtyard as yet more Naga rushed in from all around the Keep. Sylvanas struggled free from the loosened grip on her arms. “Thalyssra!” She shouted, “defend the king! Don't let anything happen to the boy!” Her eyes snapped to Baine, “my Rangers are still stationed in Theramore! GO!” She had to roll quickly to avoid the downstroke from Genn's sword. “Are you insane Greymane?” She snapped as she shoved herself to her feet, pulling her knife from her boot. She dodged backward deflecting the sword as best she could with her knife, “Boralus is being overrun and still all you can think is—“

“Your head on a spike,” Tyrande snarled, drawing her bow. 

Stuck between the two of them, Sylvanas had nowhere to run. She could try and distract one of them and make a break for it to get to Jaina but it was a long shot. She turned her full attention to Tyrande and what she saw gave her pause. The Night Warrior was not looking at her, but past her, and her arrow was aimed at a point over her shoulder. When Tyrande flicked her ears, Sylvanas dove to the ground just as the arrow sailed towards her, causing the arrow to be buried in Genn's shoulder. 

“Don’t you dare thank me, Banshee,” Tyrande snapped, tossing her bow and quiver to Sylvanas in favor of her blade. “Once all of this is settled I will have my vengeance, but I cannot allow Azshara to have whatever it is she desires from your death.” She dances back as Genn shifted into his Worgen form to lunge at her, “get to the Admiral! Break this siege!”

Bow in hand, Sylvanas did as she was told. First, she made a detour into the Keep. She dodged her way around the panicking servents to get to Jainas room to grab her staff. It was far heavier than she had expected and felt cumbersome once strapped to her back but there was nothing for it. 

By the time she had made it back out into the fray, the Naga forces had grown impossibly in number. Arrow after arrow flew from her borrowed bow as she advanced. She knew where Jaina had been most likely taken, but even without the swarms of enemy’s, getting to the island prison would be near impossible. 

Sylvanas was about to take out a Naga sorceress when a large ghastly looking stag did it for her. She stared in shock as the creature bowed it's head in greeting, sending the carving that hung from its antlers clattering. “Nadia?” Sylvanas asked in disbelief. The Stag nodded in response, turning and bending down. “No. No, I am not getting in your back. I will find my own way.”

Her resolve didn’t last long as a Naga spear flew by her face, the point just barely missing her nose. “We never speak of this,” she grumbled as she climbed onto her back. She had barely settled before Nadia was off, running towards the portal. 

Her rangers were there, along with many of her Forsaken. They rushed forth from the portal, meeting the Naga head-on. Raising the bow above her head, Sylvanas called out, “Rangers of Theramore! To me!” Her call was answered by a chorus of ‘to the Dark Lady!’ A cry that soon shifted. 

“Sentinels, to the General!” Delaryn called as she burst from the portal astride a risen stead. “Nathanos is here,” she informed Sylvanas in a rush, “I don’t know what it is he plans but we stand with you.”

Sylvanas nodded, rage clear in her features, “you stay with me. The rest of you, fan out. Your number one priority is keeping the civilians safe. Help the city guard out when needed but do your best to stay out of their line of fire. I do not know if they will consider you friends or foes.”

“Yes, General!”

“Take me to Jaina,” Sylvanas told Nadia and once more they were off. They wove their way through the street towards the docks that would take them to Tol Dagor. Luck in this regard seemed to be on their side. Nathanos had shed his disguise and had tossed a furious Jaina into the sand. “Blightcaller!” Sylvanas roared, fighting through the pain that faced across her throat, “get away from her!”

Nathanos did as he was told taking a few steps back to smile proudly at Delaryn, “splendid work, Summermoon. I knew it wasn't a waste bringing you back.”

Sliding smoothly off of Nadias back, Sylvanas forced Delaryn to lower her bow, “ignore him.” She crossed the beach and kneeled down next to Jaina, “are you alright?”

“I should be asking you that,” Relief was clearly evident in Jainas voice, “how did you get away?”

“Whisperwind let me go, believe it or not,” Sylvanas pulled Jaina up and ushered her back to a thankfully human Nadia and Delaryn, “get these cuffs off of her.”

Nathanos’ smile faltered, “my lady? What are you doing?”

“Freeing Lady Proudmoore so that she might help us rid her city of this Naga threat.”

“Why would you do that?” Nathanos snipped, “these sniveling humans will be more useful to us once they are raised. That's why I brought the Naga here.”

Sylvanas froze as she returned Jainas staff, “you did what?”

“I called the Naga here,” he said again, “with your power combined with that of their queens, you will be unstoppable! And once we help her free her master ultimate power will be yours! Azeroth will tremble before your might! We just need to kill the witch first!”

“I thought your kind were immune to corrupt coercion,” Jaina asked, gripping her staff tightly.

“We are,” Sylvanas confirmed, “that doesn't mean that the more weak-minded of us cant fall victim.” She drew her bow and took aim, “did you take to Naga to Theramore too?”

“The witch had to be dealt with! You have been trapped with her influence to long! Azshara demands only strength and so many of the Forsaken are weak and of no use to a queen! Of no use to either of you!” He took steps back towards the ocean, which opened to accept him as the first arrow was launched into the center of his chest. He held a hand to the wound and another arrow pinned his hand next to the first. “I was too late. Forgive me, my queen.”

Sylvanas tossed the bow to the ground as she approached Nathanos. Drawing her knife once more, she gripped his chin in a crushing grip. “This knife is heavily enchanted,” she drawled, placing the knife under his eye, “though, I suppose it could poke an eye out.” And she did just that, gouging out one eye and then the other, “an eye for each betrayal,” she hissed as she shoved him backward into the embrace of the ocean. She snarled at how the water seemed to carefully pull the man out to sea.

She was startled when a pair of warm arms wrapped around her. She leaned her head back against Jaina and sighed, “I’m sorry you had to see that. To see what I am capable of.”

“I already knew,” Jaina said, kissing the elf's temple, “I told you, I accept you as both general and queen. And now I fear that we are going to need both.”

“We’re going after her, aren't we?”

Jaina nodded, “I would be naive to think that this will be the end of the issue. If she went to this much trouble for you, I doubt she will stop now.”

“How do you plan on getting everyone else to agree to this?” Sylvanas asked quietly, “you forget that my life is in the Night Warriors hands now.”

“Well, we will just have to hope that her charitable mood continues. Won't we? But first, let’s clear out my city.”

 


	13. Bail

“Marksmen!” Sylvanas cried, “cover the Warchief! Clear a path to that monstrosity!” Sylvanas hadn’t thought that it would have been possible for the situation to get worse in the relatively short time she and Jaina had been gone. The Naga had lured the Boralus defence close to the shore, where the bulk of their assault force had been laying in wait. The faceless minions of the Void had been waiting for the already exhausted fighters and it was only thanks to the swift intervention of the Forsaken that the living did not immediately crumble.

Now Sylvanas moved smoothly across the rooftops keeping the Naga and Faceless away from the head of the spear of fighters forging the path towards the hulking horror that had surfaced in the harbour. The beast was huge, with a thick armored shell and wickedly large claws. With each great swing, Tauren and Kul Tiran were sent flying. Jaina did her best to catch them with hastily cast nets of mana, but not even she could save them all.

Sylvanas jumped down from the roof she had been perched on to get to Jainas side, pressing herself against Baines back, “we need to take that thing down now!”

“What do you think we’re trying to do?” Jaina snapped, “but there are too many Naga between us and it.”

Sylvanas grit her teeth, biting back a seething remark, “You are the most powerful mage on Azeroth! You stormed Dazar’alar and single-handedly plunged the city into an ice age and stormed the palace, surely you can handle a few Naga?” She followed Jaina eyes, her face softening with understanding. Sylvanas squeezed Jainas arm to try and comfort her, “the buildings are empty, my Rangers made sure to get them all out. And I have seen the strength of your people, they'll rebuild easily.”

“They still think of me as a traitor,” Jaina said, just loud enough to be heard over the sounds of battle, “they won't forgive my destroying their homes and livelihoods so easily.”

“As much as I hate to agree with Sylvanas,” Baine interjected, smashing away the nearest Naga, “but if we don't break their line soon, we won't be around for the fishermen to be angry with.”

“Fine,” Jaina relented, raising her staff as the bright glow of mana flared in her eyes, “stay close to me.” She channeled her mana into her staff as she used it to trace runes into the air above her. Frost. Power. Storm. Shield. Into these Jaina poured as much power as she thought safe enough to direct from her vast pool. All her anger and desperation to save her home. Her people. Sylvanas’ hand on her arm helped to centre her as she finally unleashed the complex spell she had woven into the Boralus sky. Shields flew up around the fighters that Jaina could see just as the spears of ice began to rain down from the sky.

Blood sprayed high from the impaled Naga and splinters flew from the homes ruined by her might. When the storm blew over, there were only a few Naga stranglers and a clear path right to the Void Beast. With a nod of assent from Jaina, Sylvanas took off towards it at a sprint. “Rangers! Take out its eyes! Make it vulnerable to the ground assault!” Even with her powers locked, her voice carried across the battlefield and her risen elves were quick to respond. 

Volley after volley of arrows sailed towards the beast. Many of the arrows clattered uselessly off of the shell, but many more found their mark. Arrows sunk deep into its eyes and the tender flesh of its joints, causing it to reel in pain and surprise. Sylvanas scaled back onto the rooftops, jumping her way to follow Baine and Jaina as they rallied the champions to finish the beast off.

Swords and axes slashed against it while mage fire and middles of arcane power scorched it. It’s sickly green blood oozed from its many wounds until, at long last, the beast went still.

As the gathered Champions celebrated their victory, Sylvanas hurried back to Jainas side. She blinked in shock when the mage pulled her close, tucking her head into the crook of her neck. “You have to run,” Jaina urged as she took a step back, take a boat and get as far away from here as possible.”

Sylvanas shook her head, “you know that I can’t do that, Jaina. If I were to leave, they would punish you more severely than they already will and that is something I cannot allow.” She raised her borrowed bow in greeting as Baine made his way over to them, squeezing Jainas hand when she felt it slid into her own. “Well fought, Warchief,” Sylvanas bowed her head.

“You as well. I see that you have retained your skill,” Baine complimented, looking slightly uneasy. He eyed the bow warily, gripping his mace tighter.

“Come now, Warchief,” Sylvanas offered him a smile, “you still don’t trust me after the pleasant chats we had? All those kind words?”

Baine huffed out a sigh, “you must understand, you are very hard to trust.”

Her ears flicked back as she cast her gaze to the ground, “Yes, I understand perfectly. But, I must return the High Priestess’ bow to her.” Sylvanas looked back up at him as Jaina look her arm with hers, “so if you would be so kind as to escort us back to the Keep.”

That seemed to relax the bull and he lead them back to the Keep. The courtyard was a mess of Naga corpses, but already work was being done to clean it up with Katherine overseeing the work. “Jaina!” When she saw her daughter she ran to her, propriety be damned. Katherine pulled her daughter into a crushing embrace before taking a step back to look her over.

“I’m fine, Mother,” Jaina assured her, “Sylvanas got to me before I could be dragged out to sea.”

“I don’t mean to interrupt, Lady Proudmoore,” Sylvanas bowed her head, “but where are the other leaders?”

Katherine narrowed her eyes skeptically, “in the great hall tending to the wounded.”

“My thanks,” Sylvanas cast a glance to Jaina, “get your wards back up while I talk with them. It will go a long way to show them that you are willing to keep me trapped here.” She was caught off guard when Jaina pulled her into a rather chaste kiss before rushing off with her mother close behind.

“So,” Baine tumbled beside her, “Is this why Jaina kept your memory secret?”

Sylvanas’ ears pinned back as her eyes narrowed, “partly, yes. She has become… precious to me. I would do anything if it meant her safety and happiness.”

“And she yours,” Baine said, a faint smile playing across his face. “She seems like she is quite happy with you. I’m glad for that after everything she has been through it is good to see that she has something to bring her joy.”

“Not for long,” Sylvanas sighed, her fist tightening around the bow and she set a brisk pace towards the Keep, “even if they don’t call for my life, I’ll be taken away from her. And Jaina will be…” she trailed off, looking up at Baine, not bothering to hide her desperation, “what does the Alliance do with their traitors?”

“I would imagine it’s the same as the Horde,” Baine said at length, “but I’m sure that with how close she is to Anduin, her sentence will be lighter.”

“I hope so, come on, they’ll be waiting for me.”

They were greeted by organized chaos. The great hall had been transformed into a makeshift infirmary and healers hurries about like so many busy bees. Sylvanas strolled past all of them, making her way directly to Tyrande. The Night Warrior sat off to the side of the great hall near to where Anduin was healing a trollish warrior, while Thalyssra meticulously wound a bandage tightly around her bicep. She gently placed the bow at the taller elf's feet, taking a cautious step back when her response was to bare her fangs. “How did a Naga manage to get close enough to strike you?” Sylvanas asked, trying to ease the tension.

“They didn’t,” Tyrande growled in response, “do not make me regret saving you from Greymane, subduing him was more trouble than I had hoped. More than enough blood has been spilt in your name.” She looked about, her eyes cold and calculating, “where is Lady Proudmoore? She was the prime reason I spared you in the first place.”

“She is currently repairing the wards around the Keep,” Sylvanas explained, “a show of good faith by putting me back in my cage.” Her ears flicked in irritation as the silver runes flared briefly with mana, “which I assume she has been completed.”

“Very well,” Tyrande said as she stood “Anduin, finish up there and send out a call to the others. We must make plans on what to do next.”

It took a few hours to gather the rest of the leaders, and almost as long for the outrage to subside. Sylvanas sat on the far end of the table between Jaina and Vereesa. She was tense, she could feel all the eyes on her. More than anyone else’s, she could feel Allerias hard gaze. They had been so close just a month ago, and now she had lost them again.

Sylvanas did not hold their attention for long, though. The doors to their meeting room banged open and Queen Talanji strolled inside, wrapped in thick furs, her head held high. “I do hope that you have ordered me here for something more pressing than the trial of the Banshee Queen, Warchief.”

“I would not think to make that mistake again, your Majesty,” Baine said, bowing his head.

Anduin stood once she had sat down, “a threat has arisen that Azeroth must stand together once more to face. Azshara and whatever Void creature she serves. We must act quickly and decisively.”

“A joint assault between our fleets,” Jaina clarified. “Naga have been attacking both of our shores frequently enough that I would wager that her stronghold is somewhere between us.”

“The logic seems sound,” Talanji agreed, “and Zandalar has already had its share of troubles from the Void. An Old God nearly destroyed us.” She leaned back in her seat glaring at Jaina, “I will commit my fleet to this mission on one condition,” she pointed to Sylvanas, “the Banshee Queen will be the one to organize and execute the assault,” before any objections could be made, Talanji carried on, “you will agree to this, or you will have to carry on with half the ships you could.”

All eyes were once again on Sylvanas. Her ears flicked forward as she looked to Tyrande, “I am not currently at liberty to make that call on my own. Priestess?”

“It would seem that if we wish to finally be rid of Azshara, then we must comply,” Tyrande conceded, “whatever plan you make, Windrunner, it had better work.”

“Very well,” Sylvanas sat up straighter, “only if the High King agrees to absolve the Lord Admiral.” She smirked at the shock and anger that she received, “I am dead whether this works or not. I would like to ensure that Jaina will be free should this even work.”

“Deal,” Anduin said, looking almost relieved, “now, tell us what you need.”

“Charts, a quill, and some parchment.”

   ____________________________________________________________________

“We’ll need at least two shamen on every ship,” Sylvanas said, scratching down a few notes, “they will be vital in maneuvering the ships easily and quickly. A Ren’dorei as well. Their portals don't rely on fixed locations and they should be able to transfer people and supplies from ship to ship.” She tapped the feather to her chin, “a paladin will have to be assigned to each as insurance.”

“And why would we need to have a paladin as insurance?” Alleria snapped out in outrage.

Sylvanas met her gaze as coolly as she could despite how her heart twisted, “it is not for lack of trust, Alleria. You and the rest of the Ren’dorei are Void touched, and we will be sailing into waters that could be teeming with minions of the Void and quite possibly a god. Should that tip your control, we need someone there to contain you,” she put heavy emphasis on the word, “we can't have you accidentally killing everyone on board.”

“We will need time to prepare,” Jaina says, “the ships will need to be fortified, Champions called armed.”

“A month at most,” Tyrande added, “whatever it is she is planning, Azshara will not wait for us to be ready for her. We need to move quickly but effectively. We need to have all of our strongest weapons at the ready.”

“On that note,” Thalyssra said, “I would let to put to motion, the unbinding of Sylvanas’ powers.” Everyone was shocked, Sylvanas. “As Tyrande has said, we need our strongest weapons. Her powers are quite formidable. With them on our side, it would be quite an advantage.”

“Can you do that?” Baine asked.

“It is,” Jaina confirmed, “if we drew the mana back out of the runes, her powers as a banshee would be freed. It would be a great help. She would be a great help.” Beneath the table, Jaina took hold of Sylvanas’ hand.

“Very well,” Tyrande said, “you may do this, but only right before we set sail. And I will be on the ship with her.”

“Well then, it would seem that we have our work cut out for us,” Sylvanas said, passing the orders she had been writing over to Vereesa, “let's hope that it is all worth it.” 

 


	14. Prison Transfer

After weeks of planning and preparation, the joint Alliance and Horde forces were as ready as they could be to face the horrors of the deep. Sylvanas stood in the bedroom that she and Jaina had given up all pretence about sharing. An armor stand had been set up to hold a set of elegant looking armor, made in the traditional style of a Ranger General. The actual armor pieces were a brilliant cobalt, with golden details in a Kul Tiran style. The material of the cloak was thick and rather luxurious. It was perfect.

Her ears twitched when Jaina wrapped her arms around Sylvanas’ waist. “Do you like it?” Jaina asked, “I had Vereesa help me get the design correct.”

“It’s far better than I deserve,” Sylvanas said, her voice soft, “I wouldn’t have thought that Whisperwind would even allow me to wear any armor.”

“Of course she is,” Jaina chided, “Tyrande may be a lot of things, but she isn’t a fool.”

“Neither are you,” Sylvanas turned in her arms, “you and I both know that I am not intended to make it back from this. One way, or another.

“Sylvanas—“

“It’s alright, Jaina,” Sylvanas leaned forward to kiss her, “I’ve made peace with this fate. If I’m lucky, I will at least be allowed to die a hero.” She allowed herself a small smile, an action that still felt odd to her, “help me get this on?”

Jaina was in no hurry to see Sylvanas off to her death. She took care in removing the soft clothing she had worn the night before. Ran her hands almost reverently over the skin she exposed. Any other time, Jaina would have allowed her fingers to wander far less innocent paths. Allow herself to press the risen elf up against the wall, or drag her back to bed. But Jaina knew that allowing herself to give in to such temptation, would be like filling accepting the truth of Sylvanas’ words.

Instead, Jaina focused on committing everything to memory. Every inch of skin, every scar, and mark. Even as she buckled the pieces of armor in place, she did so with the greatest of care.

“Careful, Jaina,” Sylvanas smiles softly, “people might start to think you care about me.”

“I don’t care what they think. It’s true,” Jaina wrapped her arms around Sylvanas tighter, “and I’m afraid of losing you.”

“I know,” with that, Sylvanas stepped away. “We should get going. It’s rude to keep a Queen waiting.”

_

It came as no surprise that Tyrande was waiting for them at the edge of the ward. But she wasn’t alone. A host of champions stood with her, weapons raised and ready to strike down the Banshee Queen. “I would find this send-off rather honouring, were it not for the number of swords pointed at me,” Sylvanas drawled, “what exactly is it that you expect me to do?”

“They are simply here as insurance,” Alleria mocked as she stepped through the Void portal she had just opened, Thalyssra and Liadrin following behind her, “to make sure that don’t try anything once your powers are restored.”

“Is this to be some family reunion?” Sylvanas asked, “am I to expect Little Moon to be down at the docks, armed and ready to set sail?”

“Your reunion will have to be put on hold,” Liadrin cut in before a proper fight could break out between the two, “both the High King and the Warchief have agreed that elvish involvement should be limited to those of us with a resistance to the Void or those that have already fully embraced it. Paladins, Ren’dorei and Kaldorei.”

“A wise choice,” Jaina agreed, “why exactly are you here, Lady Liadrin?”

“I saw the opportunity to ruffle the feathers of the High Extriarc and I took it,” Liadrin said coolly, a faint smile gracing her features, “Turalyon wanted to be stationed on the same ship as Lady Alleria, this would put him to close to Sylvanas for any of our likings. So I volunteered myself to take his place.”

“Good to see that the ability to handle any situation like a child is not only a Windrunner trait,” Jaina grumbled as she waved Thalyssra over, “please be the mature one here. Please?”

Thalyssra let out a breathy laugh as she made her way over, “I think I can manage that, Jaina.” Sylvanas stood between them, arms straight down to her sides. “Are you ready?” Thalyssra asked, sparking a semi-circle of mana around her.

“Ready,” Sylvanas Squeezed her eyes shut and waited. She remembered how it felt to have the runes charged with mana. Oh, she remembered the pain. The blindingly bright pain that had flooded through her, how it had raced along the path the silver made for it. Like a jagged vice clamping down around her. She expected to have to feel that all over again when she heard Jainas staff complete the circle, felt the swell of the arcane from it. But when Jaina spoke, Sylvanas felt no pain. It was like one singular blow, just hard enough to knock the wind out of her. When she cracked open her eyes, it was to see Jaina carefully siphoning the mana out and away, allowing it to dissipate harmlessly into the air.

She felt lighter than she had in months. So much so that it unbalanced her and she stumbled into Jainas waiting arms. “Thank you,” Sylvanas whispered, just loud enough for the mages to hear. When she finally forced herself to take a careful step away from Jaina, the champions fell into ready stances. Arrows nocked and rifles primes, spears pulled back and spells charged.

It was only when Tyrande raised a hand that they relaxed. “The Banshee is no threat to us,” she said, keeping her voice level, “for now. We should make for our ship, the King is waiting to see us off.”

The group wove their way slowly through the streets down towards the harbour, picking up Delaryn and several Dark Rangers along the way. People from all over Kul Tiras has made the trip to see their Admiral off. Sylvanas could t help but be reminded of how Silvermoon had looked when she and her rangers had taken their final ride through the gilded streets when they went to meet the Scourge. She swallowed down the dread the rise in her and kept her head high.

When they reached the docks, Anduin was there to greet them. He pulled Jaina into a tight embrace before leading her over to where her mother, brothers, and Anduin had been waiting.

Sylvanas had to force herself to tear her eyes away from them. There was no place for jealousy in her mind when a battle looked so close. She resolved herself to being sidelined while Jaina bid farewell to her loved ones. As such, she didn’t expect the tentative hand that was placed on her shoulder, causing her to jump. She spun around, fangs bared expecting a guard, only to come face to face with Vereesa. Her eyes narrowed dangerously, “what are you doing here, Vereesa?” Sylvanas hissed.

Vereesa shrunk back a step, her ears flicking back, “I’m not going to try and sneak on board if that’s what you’re thinking. I just wanted to come and say goodbye.”

“Well, Jaina and Alleria are over there,” Sylvanas huffed.

“I came to say goodbye to you,” Vereesa said quickly. She took a steadying breath and did her best to meet her sisters gaze, “I know that we haven’t been close in recent years, and I know that that is my fault. But things have been good and… the last time you left I didn’t get to say goodbye to you and that has eaten at me since you ordered me to Dalaran. So what I’m saying is,” she surged forward before Sylvanas could react, pulling her sister into a tight hug.

Sylvanas froze, her arms held out unsure of what to do. She relaxed slowly, wrapping her arms around Vereesa, “Thank you, Little Moon.”

“Promise me you’ll come back,” Vereesa begged, “I’ll fight all of them to let you live, just make it back. I can’t stand to lose you again.”

“I’ll do my best,” Sylvanas said quietly, “though I would pay good gold to see you try and fight Tyrande.”

“You’re such an ass,” Vereesa laughed, stepping back to wipe at her eyes. Her ears stood straight as Anduin made his way over to them, a wrapped bundle under his arm, “your majesty.”

Anduin inclines his head, “General. A moment with your sister?” He waited until Vereesa had walked away to turn to Sylvanas, “Genn told me what happened, how he schemed with Blightcaller to have you killed. I would like to apologize to you on his behalf.”

“Save them,” Sylvanas said, though her words held none of their usual bite, “you and I both know that he isn't sorry in the least. As long as you can assure me that he will actually be punished for his treasonous actions this time around, we have no further qualms on the matter.”

“Already done. He is awaiting his own trial in the stockades once this is all over,” Anduin repiled, inclining his head. He shifted his feet, his armor clinking slightly, “speaking of treason, I have to thank you for giving me an out. Convicting Jaina would have been one of the hardest things I would have had to do.”

“I didn’t do it for you,” Sylvanas said, “Jaina has done so much to keep me safe. And… I am well aware that you will not want to hear this but I care deeply for her.”

“You love her,” Anduin corrected gently, “and I’m happy for her. You seem to have made her very happy. I plan on trying to lessen your sentence upon your return if I can.”

Sylvanas raised a brow at that, “You would go against the wishes of most of the world for her happiness?”

“I would,” Anduin said with a sigh, “I know that I have not handled this whole situation well, but I hope to make up for that. Starting with this,” he held the bundle out to her.

Sylvanas took the bundle and cautiously unwrapped it. Her eyes widened and a soft gasp left her lips, “I never thought I would see this again.” Inside of the bundle was her bow. She ran her fingers along the chips in the bone, carved there by Saurfang’s ax, “I didn't think it had survived that farce of a duel.”

“There were many that called for its destruction,” Anduin explained, “as a stand-in for your life. I’m now glad that I had a hand in saving both of you. I see now what my father was able to glimpse before the fall.”

Sylvanas closed her eyes while she slung her bow over her back, “Despite how many times he tried to have me and my people killed, I still held a great deal of respect for your father. He was a noble and strong leader and I can honestly say, you are living up to his legacy, Little Lion.” She gave him a sound clap on his armored shoulder and offered him a smile before heading towards Jaina.

The mage in question had just managed to pull herself away from her younger brother and pulled Sylvanas close once she approached. “I just named Tandrid as me heir, officially,” Jaina explained, “I wanted to make sure everything was in order, should the worst happen.”

“How very pragmatic of you,” Jaina said quietly. Her ears twitched back as a thought occurred to her, “do any of you happen to have a bit of parchment?” She chuckled when Jaina simply waved her hand to summon a page and a quill, “thank you.” She wrote swiftly, her writing neat and even before signing with a flourish. “Vereesa,” She called to her sister.

Alleria narrowed her eyes, “what are you doing?”

“Making sure everything is in order,” Sylvanas parroted. She handed the folded page to Vereesa, “hand this to Lor’themar, if any Sin’dorei try and stop you go to Theramore and speak to Miss Voss, she should be able to get you to him.”

Tucking the page into a pouch on her belt, Vereesa asked, “and what exactly is it that I am giving him.”

“Orders to allow you,” Sylvanas glanced at Alleria, “both of you, access to what is already yours.” When they both just stared at her expectantly, Sylvanas sighed, “The Spire. I’m ceding my claim to the Spire to you, Vereesa. With that page, I am enacting our right as one of the founding families of Quel’thalas by removing our land from the kingdom proper. You and your covenant will be allowed to resettle Windrunner Village, or whatever you wish to call it. Even the Ren’dorei would be allowed some semblance of a homecoming. Though I'm sure Lor'themar will increase security around the new border.”

For the second time that day, Vereesa threw herself into Sylvanas’ arms. Only this time, she was joined by Jaina and a very wary Alleria. “This doesn't mean that I trust you,” Alleria ground out quietly once they finally began to board the massive ship.

“I wouldn't expect it to,” Sylvanas replied, “I have done little as of late to earn your trust.”

Alleria was quiet for a long while as they walked towards the bow, “back then, when we cleared out the Spire. What was your truth?”

Sylvanas didn't answer for a long time, not until Kul Tiras began to shrink behind them, “you used to know me so well, Alleria.”

“You are not as you once were,” Alleria growled, “death has twisted you.”

“After living for so many months living as I once was, I can no longer deny that,” Sylvanas agreed, “but death didn't twist me as much as you think it did. And I always was a bit of a cheater.”

“So you lied to us.”

“I did. I lied about the number of lies as there were none,” finally, Sylvanas turned to face her older sister, “I told only the truth. Hardly a day goes by that I don't wish that I had survived the war. Though I never wanted it, I was proud to be the Warchief. But most importantly, I would never betray you or Vereesa.”

“You planned to have us killed,” Alleria deadpanned.

“I was going to bring you back. That way the three of us could be together again,” Sylvanas frowned as the words left her, “thinking on it now, I see more fully how death may have warped my perspective of things.”

Alleria hung her head, “when we get back from this battle, you and I are going to have a long talk.”

“I look forward to it.”


	15. Community Service

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Its the final countdown my friends.

T hey had been sailing with no real heading for weeks. Even after meeting up with the Zandalari fleet, no captain knew where they were going, except for the helpful words of, further out than you have ever sailed. Sylvanas would have said they were lost, had it not been for the increasing frequency of the Naga assaults on their ships. They had already lost several ships to the brutal attacks, would have lost more had it not been for the vast stores of water-walking potions they had brought along. 

The Naga aside, Jaina had assured her that she did, in fact, know where they were going. Roughly at least. They were following a powerful mana signature, one that both Thalyssra and Tyrande recognized. 

“We must be getting close,” Thalyssra said as the elves and Jaina huddled around a chart covered table, “the signature is getting stronger. She’s casting something. Something big.”

“Admiral!” One of the crewmen cried as he rushed into the cabin, “something is happening on the water!” Sylvanas had to run to keep up with Jaina as the human rushed to the deck. A beam of twisting crimson light had erupted from the sea, trails of violet arcane magic swirling around it. A vile black smoke rose from the still waters, licking at the hulls of the ships as they drifted to a halt. “Is this  _ something _ you have been sensing?” Sylvanas asked. 

Tyrande shot her a withering glare, gripping the railing so tight her nails gouged into the wood, “what kind of foul magics is she weaving now?” She hissed, her ears pinned back in fury. 

“Void magic,” Alleria answered, baring her fangs, “mixed unnaturally with very old arcane rituals. She’s summoning something and the Void… it is rapturous.” She shook her head wildly before pressing the heel of her hand against her ear, “she comes now.”

As if called forth by Allerias words, the air before the ships shimmered an ethereal blue as the image of Azshara materialized. She cast her gaze about the gathered ships and smiled thinly, “well isn't this quite the sight. You have managed to set aside your petty squabbles just for me. I am so proud,” she clasped her hands in front of herself, “but I do have to say, it is rude to surprise a Queen. I had thought my subjects enough to delay you while I prepared, but you are all here so early. No matter, I do believe that I have something to keep us all entertained while I finish the final preparations.”

“We will not be playing your games, Azshara!” Tyrande snapped. 

“Ah, and you have even brought along some of my former subjects,” Azshara purred as she drifted closer to the flagship, “it is nice to see that you have not changed at all in the years since you turned against me, Tyrande.” Her smile soured for just a moment when her eyes landed on Thalyssra, “and I see that the two of you have moved past your differences. You can consider this a bonding activity.”

Azshara held her hand over the open ocean, curling her fingers slowly. The water frothed and bubbled as slowly the figure of a man emerged. He was waterlogged, seaweed hung from him like scraps of cloth and a strange rope-like tendril sprouted from the base of his skull, disappearing into the water. Where once there were eyes, now there was only pale green like that illuminated the ichor that stained his cheeks and beard. His mouth fell open, more ichor oozing out, as he took a jerky step across the water, a hollow wail reverberating from somewhere at the back of his throat. 

Sylvanas’ ears flicked back as she growled, the sound low and grating, “Nathanos.”

“I thought you killed him on the beach,” Jaina said, her face was contorted in disgust. 

“He is, or was at least, Forsaken,” Sylvanas explained, pulling her bow from her back, “it would take more than just the forcible removal of his eyes to kill him.”

Azshara chuckled, “yes, your kind are quite resilient. But you really should be more careful with your toys. It took me far too much effort to retrieve him from the sea, but I do believe that my work will pay off.” Her image began to fade, “I leave you in his capable hands.”

Azshara has barely vanished when Nathanos began his assault. He moved like a poorly strung marionette. Each and every move he made was sudden and jerky as if he were merely controlled. Nathanos raised his bow, aiming at a ship. Dark magic swirled around his hand and an arrow materialized, black as night. The arrow flew like a bolt of lightning, rapidly zagging towards its target. When it struck the side, veins of dark energy seeped out, eating away at the hull. 

Before the ship could crumble completely, a lone Pandaren leapt from its deck, landing gracefully on the surface of the water, surging forward with a roll. Sword held at the ready, she charged. But before she could reach her target, something lurched from the water, all teeth and horror. A serpentine fish emerged from the water, trapping the helpless champion between its yellowed teeth. As the fish moved, Nathanos rose into the air, the tendril pulling taught. 

“A lure,” Jaina gasp, launching a bolt of frost to stop the next arrow from hitting their ship, “there is no way we can get close to it.” She turned to Alleria, “send word to the others, ranged attacks only. Cannons and mages focus on the fish, all others are to aim for Blightcaller!” Screams erupted from another ship as it too was struck by an arrow, the fish greedily consuming anyone unfortunate enough to fall into the water. “Now!”

As soon as word made it to the rest of the Void Elves, Jainas instructions were carried out with ruthless efficiency. Mage fire and vast amounts of ice rained down upon the fish while archers and marksmen pelted Nathanos with arrows and riddled him with bullets. And yet neither faltered in their assault. More and more ships were lost to the Forsaken's arrows and countless Champions became little more than food for the beast.

“Alleria!” Sylvanas called, scaling the mast to join her sister, “if we keep up like this, he’ll simply pick us off. Someone needs to get close enough to sever that damn tie.”

“The tie,” Alleria mused, firing an arrow to distract Nathanos from the Kul Tiran ship he had been targeting, “are you thinking that he is controlling that creature?”

“Perhaps,” Sylvanas shrugged, setting Death Whisper aside, “but then again perhaps not. We have nothing to go on but this may be our only hope.”

“Alright, what's your plan?”

“Get me above him,” Sylvanas said, drawing her blade, “if I take him by surprise than we have a chance to end this.” She stood by as Alleria pulled open a rift in the Void. The Whispers sent a bolt of fear through her but she swallowed it down.

“It really doesn't like you,” Alleria grunted as she struggled to keep the rift open.

“That's not a very exclusive club, most of the world is a part of it,” Sylvanas sniffed, glancing at Alleria, “you better make sure you catch me. I have no intention of becoming food this day.” With that, Sylvanas dove through the rift. Time seemed to stretch on forever as she passed through it until she was once more met with light. 

Nathanos was below her, his attention fully on Jainas ship. As Sylvanas fell, she swung her blade with as much force as she could muster. It was like cutting through butter. Her blade easily cut through the tendril and cleaved its way through Nathanos’ neck. Below her, the fish let out a gurgling cry as both she and Nathanos’ body fell towards it's writhing form. Just as she was about to hit the water, a new rift opened depositing her onto the deck next to Tyrande and Jaina. She rolled to a stop, Nathanos’ head tumbling after her.

“My Queen,” the head managed to wheeze, “forgive me.” The final words of the once Champion of the Banshee Queen, before Jaina cracked his skull with a swift blow from the end of her staff, forever condemning him to death.

“It's gone!” The cry was taken up by the other ships as the creature returned to the depths.

“That was incredibly stupid,” Jaina snapped as she hulled Sylvanas to her feet and pulled her into a crushing embrace.

“There was no other way,” Sylvanas murmured as she was released. “Besides, we have a bigger problem. Azshara is down there somewhere and we have no way of getting to her.” 

Jaina turned to Tyrande, “any insight you can give us, Priestess?”

“She is vain to a fault,” Tyrande mused, “any slight against her, she will respond.”

Thalyssra grinned mischievously, “you and I have personal experience with that.”

“In Kul Tiras, most of our fishing by dragnet,” Jaina said, “what better way to catch an all-powerful serpent queen, than with an arcane fish net?”

With a bark of laughter, Alleria opened a portal, “I’ll spread the word.”

On Jainas signal, mages on every ship sent a net constructed of mana deep into the ocean. For a long time, nothing happened. Then, Jaina was pulled into the railing as the net snagged. Sylvanas was quick to wrap her arms around the humans to keep her from being pulled over as Jaina began to haul in the net. Frantic splashes broke the water's surface as Azshara was pulled out. The second she was fully out of the water, Jaina dropped the spell casting the net and cast a frost spell on the water. The spell was picked up quickly by Thalyssra and then the other mages. Her escape temporarily cut off, Azshara reared up, setting her sights in the flagship, “you dare assault a queen? You have no idea the powers you are tampering with!” She swung her arms out, releasing a wave of arcane might. In that one swoop, a mass of ships were claimed by the sea. 

“Champions of Azeroth,” Sylvanas climbed into the railing, and unleashed the power of her voice, “before you stands the greatest threat to our world! Show her what happens when you underestimate our might!” She took her bow and allowed herself to slip into her banshee form, “show this  _ queen _ no mercy! For the Horde!” The cry was taken up, “for the Alliance!” Beside her, Alleria cheered, “for Azeroth!”

Champions of all races and creeds jumped to the ice and charged the Naga Queen. Warriors were batted away like flies. The many companions of hunters were incinerated before they could even get near to her and spells were simply deflected. “You interrupt nothing. Even without my aid, the ritual carries on,” Azshara called, freezing an approaching paladin with a glance, “I will give you one final chance to lay down arms and beg for my forgiveness.”

Azshara was so focused on keeping the Champions at bay that she didn't notice the shadow rushing towards her until an arrow was embedded in her shoulder. Sylvanas landed behind her with a roll, raising with her bow at the ready, “a true Queen does not allow herself to be distracted by pion. She keeps her eyes on the true threats,” she taunted.

“You are no true threat to me,” Azshara said, trying to keep her face cool even as another arrow buried itself next to its twin.

“No, I’m not,” Sylvanas agreed, “but they are. Jaina, now!”

Azshara had no time to react as blast after blast of mage fire hit her side. She let out a cry of agony as she pulled up a shield to defend herself. “Aid me!” she called, but no answer came. Emboldened, the Champions renewed their assault. They swarmed her like so many ants attacking a snake. Crude weapons and elegant magics were turned towards the once great queen. Cut off, Azshara lashed out, “no! I will not be ended like this! Not by the likes of you!”

But fall she did. Burnt and bleeding, Azshara tried to drag herself towards a small crack in the ice, struggling to draw in air. As she reached the centre of the ice field, Azshara shuddered in pain before going still.

Curious Champions approached her slowly, even as the ice began to crack and shatter. A great roar echoed around the sky as a dark tentacle burst through the ice, pulling the queen back into the depths. Sylvanas did what she could to get as many Champions as she could back to the ship but she was helpless to save them all as the ice melted into the now boiling sea. The sky went dark and a voice echoed through the air. “I am released!” 

The water in the centre of the ships began to swirl into a mighty whirlpool, forcing the shamen to struggle against the elements to keep the ship out and away.

When Sylvanas touched back down onto the deck of the ship, it was to see Alleria struggling within the column of Light that Liadrin had summoned around her. She flicked in and out of her Void form and lashed out against the walls, shouting curses in an unknowable language.

“N’Zoth,” Liadrin gasped out against the strain of keeping Alleria contained, “no doubt the other Ren’dorei have had a similar reaction.”

“We have not the strength to talk on an Old God,” Tyrande said as she paced about the deck, “we should retreat and regroup.”

“Regroup with who?” Thalyssra asked, “we brought every capable fighter with us. If we turn back now than we are only giving him more time.”

“Than we have to kill him here,” Delaryn stated as she came to join them, choosing to stand at the High Priestesses side, “one quick decisive blow.”

“A bomb!” a Goblin Champion piped up, looking all too happy about the concept given their dire situation.”

“It would have to be stronger than a bomb, we are talking about ending a God,” Jaina said, swallowing hard, “a mana bomb.” Silence fell and Jaina carried on, “I saw the power that such a thing has. What it did to Theramore, what it did to me? I have no doubt in my mind that such a thing would be able to kill this N’zoth.”

“We would need a conduit,” Thalyssra said, her ears falling back, “and we do not have the time to construct one.”

“And what if we already had a conduit?” Sylvanas asked, meticulously unstrapping her armor, “what if we had brought one with us?”

Jaina’s eyes widened, “no! No, I won't let you do this! We’ll find another way!”

“We keep talking in circles, Jaina, There is no other way,” Sylvanas tossed her cloak aside, “I already have runes seared to my skin, we have the most brilliant mages on this ship, it should be no problem to repurpose them.” She turned to Tyrande, “if it suits the High Priestess, I would request that the punishment for my crimes be community service. Allow the body to be used as the bomb. I can possess the monster and destroy him from the inside.”

“Granted.”

“No!” Jaina gripped Sylvanas’ shirt tightly, “you don’t have to do this! We’ll find some other way!”

Sylvanas offered her a smile as she cupped her face in her hands, “Jaina, I have committed so many horrors and failed so many people. Let me do this one good thing.”

Choking back a sob, Jaina stepped back, “signal the fleet. All capable mages to the flagship, and then full retreat.”

Her order was carried out swiftly and precisely. By the time the mages had gathered, Jaina had prepared the ritual circle, “on my mark, channel as much mana as you have left into the spell. Sylvanas, there will be a delay before the mana activates and you--” she closed her eyes tightly, unable to finish the sentence.

“I'll make sure to possess him before that.”

Ready? Now!”

The sudden rush of mana was excruciating and Sylvanas let out a scream. One by one the mages fell until only Jaina remained swaying on her feet. Sylvanas caught her and gently lowering her to sit on the ground. After pulling her into a lasting kiss, Sylvanas muttered, “I love you,” against Jainas lips.

“I love you, too, Sylvanas. Please. Please come back?”

“Promise,” it was a sugary lie, they both knew it. But still, Jaina said nothing as Sylvanas dove off of the side of the ship and into the swirling waters. 

Down she swam. Deeper than any surface dweller had ever dared dive. She could feel the weight of N'zoth's insistent whispers almost as much as she could the weight of the ocean. She was almost there when a tentacle wrapped around her legs, stopping her descent. “You cannot stop me, Azshara!” Sylvanas tried to shout.

Azshara, half of her face horribly burnt only sneered, “I have to desire to stop you. N’zoth and I had a deal. I help set him free and he saved me. Being dragged back into a life of this torture to be naught but his pet was not in our deal.” She pulled Sylvanas close, “no, I wish to assist you in his demise,” she allowed her own mana reserves to flow freely into the silver runes, “a new deal. You destroy my keeper, and I leave you alone. For now.”

“I am not in a position to turn down your offer,” Sylvanas pointed out.

“Nor am I in one not to make it,” Azshara returned, “yet here we are, queen to queen.”

“Then we have a deal,” Sylvanas jolted as the new mana mingled with the rest and Azshara sent her rocketing once more into the depths.

Deeper.

Still yet deeper. A flash of scales as the monstrous fish swam past her, Nathanos’ body still hanging from its teeth.

Then, from the beyond the dept, a flash of orange light and Sylvanas found herself face to many-eyed face. “N’zoth, let's have a chat.” Sylvanas surged forth, slipping into her banshee form just as she collided with the God. She forced her spirit to stretch throughout his body. It was the worst pain she had ever felt, being spread so thin. Her sense of self began to fail her as N’zoth easily overpowered her will, trapping her.

‘What did you hope to accomplish?’ N'zoth's voice rumbled. ‘Did you really think a God to be some feeble creature? Something easily controlled!? You mortals and your arrogance.’

‘Nothing so simple as that,’ Sylvanas struggled as the mana began to pulse, ‘I simply came to bring you a gift.’ 

‘A gift?’ N’zoth questioned. Whatever he had to say was cut off as his flesh began to split open. Violet energy shined through the fissure, boiling the water around him.

‘A one-way trip back to the Void,’ Sylvanas laughed at the old Gods panic even as she felt herself slipping away.

A Brilliant flash of violet and Sylvanas knew no more.

   ____________________________________________________________________

The energy blast sent Jainas ship back on a large wave, sending everyone on board scrambling for something to hold. As the ship settled, Liadrin's strength finally gave out and she fell to her knees, setting Alleria free. The Void elf stared about in confusion, her ears twitching wildly. “He's gone,” she breathed, “N’zoth is gone!”

Exhausted cheers victory went up at her words, but Jaina was deff to them. She scanned the water over and over, looking for any signs of Sylvanas. But none came. With a heavy heart, Jaina turned her eyes to the sky. They had won this day, she couldn't deny that, but Jaina knew that she would never accept this, so long as she drew breath.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, before anyone gets mad. Do remember that there is one chapter left and it isn't tagged with MCD.  
> Trust in me.


	16. Acquittal

The ocean was vast and endless. No wind broke the surface, leaving it mirrors like in its stillness. The water was so dark that it was impossible to tell where it ended and the starless sky began. Sometimes, the moon would glimmer, ever so faintly, far up above, or the sun would cast feeble rays upon her face. In those rare moments, she felt the gentle caress of fingers through her hair, or a hand upon her cheek, accompanied by soothing whispers in a language older than time.

Those were the times she liked best. Being unable to move, trapped with nothing but her own thoughts and questions, those sweet whispers brought her comfort from herself. But they never stayed long, and once they were gone the ocean returned. With it the main looming question: who was she?

An elf, that much she was certain of, but after that, nothing. Sometimes, she thought she might have been a warrior or a leader. Others, a vile monster. Names and places flitted through her mind, only to slip away like sand when she tried to grasp them. She didn’t mind that much about them, they couldn’t have been that important. But one thing did bother her. A promise to someone important. She could almost see their face, hear their voice. Grey-blue eyes haunted her mind as she struggled to remember only to fail.

Time was meaningless in the darkness of the water. As such, the elf had no way of knowing how long she had been drifting aimlessly when the water next to her was disturbed. It took a great deal of effort, but she managed to turn her head to see that a… troll? Yes, a troll had sat on the water's surface next to her. He shook his head with a sigh, “he really did a number on you. Though I suppose this is what you get for possessing an Old God and then blowing up with enough raw mana to level Pandaria, eh, Sylvanas?”

Sylvanas? Why did she know that name?

It felt as if something had clawed its way into her skull and dug down to her memories. She let out a small whimper of pain before focusing more fully on the troll, “that… is my name? Isn’t it?”

“Indeed it is your name,” the troll laughed, “and who am I?”

“Who else would come to bother me but you, Vol’jin?”

Vol’jin flicked Sylvanas lightly in the middle of her forehead, “you best be watching your tongue. This bother has been running interference, keeping the many Gods of death to busy to be trying to collect your soul while they pieced you back together.”

“While who pieces me back together?” Sylvanas asked.

“Our mutual benefactors,” Vol’jin replied, gesturing to the sky, “they been watching you for a long time and they are proud of what you have done.”

“I see,” Sylvanas thought that over, “did it work then? Is he gone?”

“Nothing more than arcane particles,” Vol’jin replied, “you did good and we all agree that you deserve some peace now. You’ve more than earned it.”

Sylvanas frowned at that, “so this is it then? No going back?” Her ears wilted, “I have long wished for a peaceful death, for the eternal joy that was stolen from me but now… now I have something to live for. I don’t want to leave her.”

“You misunderstand,” Vol’jin soothes the distraught elf, “your peace will not be granted here, or in any of the lands beyond. They took the time to pull you back, they aren’t about to let you go to waste. No, no your paradise awaits you back on Azeroth with your little mage.”

In the distance, the bell of a ship tolled and Vol’jin smiled, “that be your ride. It time for you to go home,” he splashed his hand through the water and a green glow began to emanate from the ripples, “spirits be with you, Sylvanas.”

Sylvanas chuckled, “a funny thing to say to a banshee.”

“What I say about that tongue?” Vol’jin chuckled, “I'll be watching over you, so you best be staying out of trouble.”

“I’m sure Jaina will keep me in line.” Sylvanas closed her eyes and allowed herself to sink into the water.

____________________________________________________________________

It was with a shaking hand that Jaina uncorked the last mana potion stored on her ship. Thalyssra had refused her request for a shipment to be sent through the stabilized portal that had been set up below deck almost as soon the battle was over. She had said it was for Jainas own good, too much in such a short time was detrimental to her health. Jaina knew better than to argue. The bottle clattered to her feet as Jaina channeled her renewed reserves to propel her ship forward and continue her search.

It had been nearly two weeks since the end of the Battle of the Deep, and Jaina had yet to find any signs of Sylvanas. No body, no dust. No trace amounts of the necromantic power that had kept her alive. Despite that, Jaina still held her belief that the Banshee Queen had somehow survived the blast.

The faint hum of arcane signaled the arrival of someone stepping through the portal. With a sigh, Jaina released her hold of the ship, allowing it to drift on its own, to turn and face her guest. She had expected Anduin or her mother, coming back to beg her to come home again. Instead, her eyes met with the faint glow of Vereesas. Her ears were pinned back and she wrung her hands together. Jaina forced herself to smile, “Vereesa,” her voice cracked slightly, “what brings you here?”

“It's being unveiled today,” Vereesa said, “the statue for Sylvanas, I mean. In the Valley of Heros. I thought that you would like to come to the ceremony with me and the boys.”

For a long while, Jaina didn’t answer. She strode down the deck, Vereesa close behind. Only when she reached the bow did she speak, “she’s going to hate it when she gets back. She doesn't even like her statue in Silvermoon.”

Vereesa's ears wilted, “Jaina,” she started, “you can’t keep doing this to yourself. This constant search is going to kill you. You need to accept that she’s gone, Jaina. What she did was noble and heroic and just so like her but she was a mana bomb! No one could survive that.”

“I did.”

“Only because you were on the other side of a portal!” Vereesa grabbed her by the shoulders and turned her around. She frowned at the dark circles beneath the human's eyes, “Belore! Are you even sleeping?”

“Every moment that I am not propelling this ship is another moment that she drifts further from the site of the explosion,” Jaina explained, “I’ve been following the currents and sooner or later I should come across her.”

“Why are you so insistent?” Vereesa asked.

“Because if she is dead than it is my fault, Vereesa,” Jaina hung her head, “just one more life that I have snuffed out. I can’t stand the thought of that. So I am going to keep searching for as long as I can.”

“Jaina, there is no one to blame,” Vereesa tried.

“Some would call it a person to celebrate,” Jaina bit out, “I heard what was said when I managed to portal the sailors off my ship. Praising me for ridding Azeroth of it three biggest threats. So no… I can't go back until I find her.”

High above them, a large bird let out a rattling cry as it sailed towards the deck. It had scarcely touched down before it shifted into a human form to run towards the pair. “Lord Admiral!” Nadia called.

“Nadia?” Jaina spun around to face her, “any luck?”

“I think so, Admiral,” Nadia said, taking in great breaths of air. “Starboard side. I saw a flash. A green one, Ma’am.”

Vereesa frowned in confusion at the look of excitement that crossed Jainas face, “I don't understand,” the elf nearly had to run to keep up with Jaina as she rushed back to the wheel, the ship already turning with her magic, “what is a green flash?”

“They happen very rarely out at sea,” Jaina explained, urging the ship forward, “a flash of green as the sunsets. Many think it harolds in someone's return from the dead. I’m usually a skeptic, but right now? Just keep an eye on the water.”

They were silent as they sailed. One by one the stars began to glitter into life. Still, they sailed on into the gathering night. The water was still and empty save for the wake of the ship as it passed. There was nothing for a long time and then-- “Jaina!” Vereesa called, “Jaina, I saw something!”

The ship stopped with a lurch and Jaina ran to her side, “Where? What did you see?”

“There,” Vereesa pointed over the side, “a gleam of silver. It looks like it could be attached to a body.”

Drawing on her power, Jaina summoned forth her elemental, “bring her here,” she bade it, standing back as it flooded down into the ocean. It drifted out slowly and carefully scooped the body from where it had been and returned it to his mistress. When the body was laid out on the deck, Jaina let out a sob, “Sylvanas.” The elf was still and bare of everything but the tarnished silver that seemed to be more sunk into her skin. She looked so peaceful as Jaina kneeled down and pulled her head into her lap, dutifully pushing the hair from her face. Jaina leaned her head down and pressed her forehead to Sylvanas’. “Come on, Sylvanas,” she whispered, “you promised me that you would come back. Don't make me lose you as well. Please, just open your eyes.”

Jaina startled at the feeling of a cold hand weakly cupping her jaw, “careful, Jaina,” Sylvanas’ voice was quiet and strained, lacking it's old ethereal tones, “people might start to think you care about me.”

“Sylvanas!” Jaina couldn't pull the elf up into her arms fast enough. She pressed a quick kiss to her lips before hiding her face against Sylvanas’ shoulder, “you came back.”

“Of course I did,” Sylvanas replied, weakly wrapping her arm around Jaina, “I promised I would.” Taking in her surroundings, Sylvanas saw the elemental occupying itself with a coil of rope. Nadia had carefully turned a sobbing Vereesa around and offered the risen elf a watery smile of her own before averting her eyes. Jaina seemed to take notice as she removed her cloak and wrapped it around Sylvanas.

With one more kiss, Jaina helped Sylvanas to her feet, keeping her close, “let's go home, Sylvanas.”

“Home,” Sylvanas mused. Where was that to her now? When was the last time she had felt like she had a home? A place she belonged? The Undercity? No, no that had been her refuge but not a home, not really. Quel’thalas? Even those ancient forests had not felt like home for a long time. When she felt the subtle urging from Jaina to be closer to her, Sylvanas knew. “I already am home.”

Jaina laughed lightly at that, “as am I.”

____________________________________________________________________

Jaina stepped out of the portal from Dalaran with a heavy sigh. It had been an exhausting few days of meeting with the Horde and Alliance leaders but they had finally come to an agreement. In truth, their decision hasn't changed much from what it had been a year ago, if for different reasons.

Tess had worded it all quite well, Jaina thought. “She gave everything to save us all. Like it or not, she is a hero now and to condemn her to death? Well, that's a line that we can't afford to cross.” Oh, she was going to make a wonderful Queen. Jaina was sure that once all of the rebuilding was done, she would do amazing things for Gilneas.

As it was, Jaina was looking forward to finally getting a moment to relax and unwind. Tucking the book she had plucked from the library under her arm, she made her way to the labyrinth. Just as she knew she would be, Sylvanas was sat on the edge of the fountain, dressed down in a simple shirt and comfortable pants. She was holding a carving that had clearly been forgotten about in favour of whatever thoughts had caused her eyes to cloud and her ears to twitch.

“Sylv?” Jaina said softly as she sat down and leaned against her. This had become a common occurrence. Sylvanas would just drift away, lost to whatever memories of N’zoth managed to surface. “Are you with me?”

Blinking quickly to clear her eyes, Sylvanas nodded, “yes.” She cleared her throat and resumed carving as Jaina relaxed against her, opening her book. “How were the meetings?”

“They went very well,” Jaina said, “in an almost unanimous decision, the leaders of Azeroth have decided not to kill you. Instead, you will be stuck with me.”

“What did I ever do to deserve such a terrible fate,” Sylvanas deadpanned and she moved to that she could place a kiss on Jainas temple.

“Just that lucky, I suppose.”

“The luckiest woman on Azeroth.”

“Second luckiest,” Jaina corrected.

“Oh?” Sylvanas arched a brow at that, “and why is that?”

“Because I’m the first,” Jaina smiled.

Sylvanas let out a low chuckle, “of course, whatever you say, Jaina. Whatever you say.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for all the kudos and comments and just for sticking around and reading this.


End file.
